Colour Blind
by Lilith91
Summary: It's a pity they are blinded by something as meaningless as house colours, it might have saved them in the end.
1. Prologue Kid A

I didn't want to know. I just didn't want to know the Hows? Whys? or What the fuck possessed you? of their actions. They didn't interest me because I knew that there would be no legitimate explanation other then some tripe about the _Greater Good_. It was frustrating, their absurdity and their hypocrisy. It was _not_ normal for a child to be beaten and starved. It was _not_ normal to encourage inter house rivalry. A little competition, by all means it is healthy. But to the degree they take it?

People, children, die because they cannot see past the primary colours. "They're Slytherins" can no longer be a justifiable reason as to why someone may or may not have done it. Who is to say that a Hufflepuff cannot be as sly or cunning as a Slytherin? Why could a Hufflepuff have not done it? Is it simply because they are seen as too loyal, or perhaps too stupid to even consider it? They of all the houses have the perfect cover. No one looks twice at a Hufflepuff, ever. They assume them to all be kind loving and loyal; they think nothing of them standing behind while private conversations are going around, after all, Hufflepuffs are loyal. But, are they loyal to you? I have nothing against Hufflepuffs, and on average find them to be lovely people. I am merely wondering why they too were not put under suspicion.

For all of Dumbledore's belief in Trelawney's dribble, does he not believe in self-fulfilling prophecies. The idea that if we are thought to behave and live a certain way, that we too will begin to believe it and later act and live exactly as how they believe us to. That if you label us as sly, dirty and cunning with no loyalty and no ambitions, and if you treat us as such it will eventually become true. Or that because of such thoughts and fears from the outside world, we will retreat to a smaller number of those who proclaim they will treat us fairly, and will accept us. You wonder why we always "go to the dark side", yet you belittle us and do not trust us when we say we are there to help the supposed "Light". At least with the Dark ones, we know what to expect. We know they are not trustworthy, and will destroy us the moment our usefulness has grown sparse. With you, it is worse, because you lie and promise differently. You use us and abuse us, all with false smiles proclaiming that it is our fault or for the greater good. You stand at our weddings, and then stab us with the knife that cut the cake. All because of a shabby shit-faced hat that saw greatness in us, and proclaimed us –

– "Slytherin!"

No eleven year old is inherently evil. Not even Harry Potter, when he was placed in Slytherin on the evening of September 1st, nearly eight years ago. And yet, with the glares they gave him and the silence that reigned, you would have believed differently. The gasps of horror, the shock and the pure unadulterated hatred that came about from the decision of a moth-eaten dusty pile of cloth, would have had you thinking he was the devil incarnate himself.

You can go fuck your _Greater Good_.


	2. Fake Plastic Trees

A/N: A beta would be much appreciated.

Chapter 1

He knew the moment that the hat shouted Slytherin and all noise in the hall seemed to lessen beyond silent, that this decision had not necessarily been in his best interests. No one clapped or even smiled as he stood to go sit with his new house. Not the professors, his new friends, not even his own house made any sort of encouragement, although his house's reactions were seemingly less hostile then the rest. They at least looked surprised, before masking that into a neutral expression, or at least most of the upper years did. A few looked strangely intrigued and calculating, while some of the younger years still had their shock apparent on their faces, even more showed their anger. That anger, he discovered once seated, was nothing in comparison to the anger radiating towards him from the other tables. A few looked confused, but most were absolutely livid at this apparent betrayal; their eyes darted between the professors, his position and their wands, wondering if it would be worth the risk. He was sure a few had decided that it was, and were preparing to shoot when the Deputy Headmistress shook her head to remove the stupor and called out the next name to allow the sorting to continue. Everything afterwards was rather subdued. Harry paid special attention to his food and drink when it later arrived, to ensure that none could tamper with it, or even worse, steal it.

He waited with the rest of the first years in the centre of the common room. If you could call his position against the wall, in the shadows where he could see the whole common room, as well as all those who entered without being seen readily, as being _with_ the other first years. It had been a long day and he was growing tired but he dared not move from his observation post until he knew exactly where he stood and how it worked in Slytherin. He knew the wizarding world as a whole was vastly different then the Muggle one, and it seemed that Slytherin was even more so. Until he knew exactly where he could step and when, it was best to be left forgotten in the shadows so as not to draw undue attention to oneself. Unfortunately, the wizarding world seemed to have this unhealthy obsession with his person, and he had this dreadful feeling that his life in the shadows would not be long permitted or accepted.

He paid enough attention to what Professor Snape was saying during his start of term speech, while still being able to focus his attention on the others in the room. The upper-years sat around on armchairs and couches by the fire, lazily waiting to be released, while a few were even mouthing the words as Snape went on. It was apparent that Professor Snape had done this sort of thing before, and was not the kind of person who much liked change when he could avoid it. Some of the third and second years sat further back in the room by what appeared to be chessboards, although none even bothered touching the pieces. He didn't blame them, because although it seemed that the professor said this sort of thing every year, he had no doubt that the man would follow through with his threats and was as menacing, if not more so, then how he portrayed himself. Harry was about to follow the other students up the staircases when he heard his name being called. He dutifully remained behind, stepping out of the shadows only after the last student had made it up the steps. A seventh year by the look of him, one who had wanted to linger but the professor has shooed away with a glance. Or a glare rather, Harry decided as he turned to look at the man full on.

"Harry Potter?" the professor asked, raising a curious eyebrow. Harry felt no need to respond beyond a respectful nod of his head, and a soft-spoken "Sir", as he stepped out of the shadows. They all knew who he was, so there was no need to speak more then necessary and possibly enrage the man. He could see the man's steely magic curling gracefully around his frame; it was one of the more powerful magic's that he had seen in his limited time in the wizarding world. Professor Snape was not the type of person you wanted to cross. Unfortunately, despite the man's almost impeccable control, Harry saw that he had still managed to piss the man off in some manner. Harry was sure that it was simply one of those "because he exists" circumstances that you were unable to control. However, the man's efforts to suppress this predisposed hatred for Harry was rather intriguing. The man did not start speaking until Harry was out in the relatively dim lighting of the dungeons, and even then he did a precursory sweep around Harry before opening his mouth.

"I do not know how you came to be in my house, but according to that mothball cloth you are now a Slytherin. The title of Slytherin encompasses some general rules that I have outlined in my commencement speech. However, I am warning you that despite these rules and the Slytherin code of conduct, you will find life rather difficult here. Perhaps at first, perhaps not, it depends on you really. Slytherins as a whole are not a nice bunch of people, but we respect power and tradition, and despite all else, we do protect our own. Remember that when you leave these walls, because you will find that life out there is even more dangerous for a lone snake." With that, the professor swept out of the common room, his robes billowing in the same fashion as when he walked in.

All in all, Harry thought as he lay behind his protective curtains, that it was the most unsettling and inspiring thing he had ever been told. The sneering and scarcely veiled disgust rather belied the underlining message, but the struggle of which the professor had in delivering it rather made Harry believe in its truth. As did his own observations. He knew that surviving in Slytherin would be difficult, possibly more so then beyond its perversely protective walls, and yet, the possibilities that lay ahead, would they make up for the struggle? He thought back to Ollivanders' and his promise of _greatness_ and decided, that for this once, the gamble might just be worth it.


	3. Life in a Glass House

Chapter 2

He woke up later then he usually did, although from what he could hear, the rest of his dorm remained sleeping. He cautiously opened his curtains wary of anything the other boys might have done while he was sleeping. He was the last one in bed, and the last asleep, of that he was almost positive but that did not mean that his dorm mates couldn't have woken up later in the night and tampered with, anything really. It was the third week of school, and he had so far managed to live it out here in a relative peace. Harry snorted as he ran a hand through his unruly hair, who was he kidding? Three weeks had been hell, he wasn't sure how he was going to survive seven years. He had been woken up the early the first day by what the upper-years called their "initiation" into Slytherin. Funnily enough, he was the only one who seemed to have been initiated. It started harmless enough, a few stinging curses to his bed, cutting curses to his charmed curtains and cold water splashed in his face. At least they attempted to throw water on his face, nothing actually made it past his curtains. He himself had only been awakened by the frustrated curse of one of the upper-years. Curious, he sat up in his bed and placed his glasses on his head, while he slowly reached for his wand and knife from under his pillow. He watched impassively as someone obviously tried to pull away his curtains only to be stung, painfully if their cries were anything to go by. He was rather unsure of what to do, or how many were out there. Would it be worth trying to escape?

"Come out little wittle Potter." Cooed one of the more vicious upper-years. "All we want to do is play and have a little fun." Harry snorted in response and raised an eyebrow that they couldn't see. He knew all about _fun_. Then someone had the bright idea to make the curtains invisible. He watched as they slowly faded away from sight, and reached out frightfully to make sure they were still there. He quickly put his weapons under the comforter as his initiators came into view, and decided that it would be in his best interest to remain behind the curtains. There were at least twelve of them crammed into the room, and from the looks of it they seemed to be at least fifth year and above.

"Ooh, there he is. Don't you want to play our game? I can assure it it'll be oodles of fun!" came the mocking voice. It was the same seventh-year who had lingered behind for Snape's speech. He was quite tall at about 6'1" with dirty blond hair and light brown eyes. He stood at the foot of his bed, and seemed to be the instigator of these _games_.

"I would much rather sleep thank you, may we continue this conversation in the Great Hall during breakfast tomorrow?" Harry asked. The seventh-year, Crinkly, Riley Crinkly, he later found out, merely shook his head in the negative as he tapped his wand against his thigh contemplatively. Small purple sparks flew out with every tap.

"No, I think not Potter, it would much better played tonight." He shot another spell at Harry's bed, only to have it sizzle against the invisible curtains. He looked mildly upset as opposed to enraged, and Harry wasn't sure if that was necessarily a good thing or not. Most of the boys standing there did not look nearly as enthused as Crinkly, in fact a boy with reddish brown hair who was leaning against Malfoy's bed post to Harry's right looked rather bored. He was checking his fingernails, wand tucked uselessly in his back pocket. Unfortunately for Harry, the rest looked on readily, greedily smirking at Harry's predicament, eagerly watching Crinkly's idea of having some _fun_.

"It looks like you have more then enough players, and I can assure that I will no doubt be quite terrible at this game of yours. It would be best if you played it amongst yourselves."

"Actually we need one more player." Said a rather burly boy with a gruff voice who stood just behind Crinkly. It did not matter because the boy stood an easy 6'5" and weighed at least 280lbs. Flint was his name, Marcus Flint.

"Hmm. Then I would ask Malfoy if I were you," Harry said, nodding to the figure whose head peaked out from behind the bored boy "he looks more than happy to play your game." Draco gave a rather undignified squeak and hastily retreated back into the safety of his own curtains. Crinkly and the other chuckled quietly amongst themselves. Even the bored boy seemed to have found amusement with Malfoy's reaction.

"It seems poor little Malfoy doesn't want to play either." He quipped, picking off some invisible bit of lint from his sleeve before going back to checking his nails. Crinkly was getting rather upset by Harry's unwillingness to play.

"Hush McCullough. No, only you can play Potter. You're the only one _special_ enough." Crinkly said with little amusement. He was becoming annoyed with this twist in his game.

"No thank you gentleman. As special as you find me in roughly four hours of knowing me, I'm afraid I must decline your rather gracious offer." Crinkly tapped his wand rather harshly against his thigh and dark red sparks flew out causing the goon beside him to yelp in pain.

"It was not a request Potter. Get over here _now_." Orange sparks shot out this time, but the others had learned from the goon's mistake, and there was a small ring of empty space around Crinkly. McCullough put out the small fire that the sparks had created.

"No."

"I do not like to repeat myself. Get your ass out of that bed and over here immediately. We are only here to initiate you into the ways of Slytherin." Crinkly replied with a false sweetness that would have made Petunia proud.

"And yet you do not seem to want to initiate any of the other Slytherins, I must be really special."

"Indeed you are. Now come play our game, we're not going to leave until you play."

"And I'm not leaving this bed until you're gone." Crinkly and most of the others laughed. Flint smirked, and McCullough was still checking his nails avidly listening to the conversation.

"Well then I guess we have ourselves a bit of a predicament don't we lads?" Crinkly was back to tapping his wand lightly across his thigh as he walked forward, his back to Harry as he addressed his goons.

"Or at least Potter here does." He continued whipping around to stare at Harry, his lips smirked in a perverse amusement. "There's enough of us here that we can take turns watching you Golden-Boy, until you can't resist the call of nature any longer and leave." He then proceeded to conjure a chair and sit. His legs were crossed, as were his hands, with his wand lying atop his knees. A couple of the others proceeded to do the same thing. Others like Flint and McCullough however, did not.

Harry sat up a little straighter, taking caution not to reveal his wand or worse, his knife. He knew that they themselves, and their spells could not come through the curtains but he didn't know about other objects, and he didn't want to test that theory. At least not while they were out for some _fun_. Once he was in a more comfortable position, Harry stopped to look at his watch and smiled.

"Yes, but since I am their _Golden-Boy_ they will start to wonder and quite quickly too, why I didn't show up for breakfast, it starts in an hour. And even if they did not manage to take notice of my absence amongst the chaos in the Great Hall, they will notice when you and I do not show up for our respective classes." If Harry were standing, he would have been pacing menacingly by this point. Instead he just cocked his head to the side in a false innocence. "Then what will they think? Because I can bet you that it will be along the lines of 'what have those nasty Slytherins done to our poor Boy-Who-Lived?'" Crinkly looked furious, but managed to keep it under control.

"But you're a Slytherin now." He spat viciously.

"Perfect. Then there's no need to initiate me because I am one of you." McCullough laughed heartily, using Malfoy's bedpost for actual support, instead of a casual pose. Even Flint smirked in appreciation. Seeing that this would not be logic enough for Crinkly he continued hastily "But even if they do not see this, I have been the Boy-Who-Lived longer then I have been a Slytherin, the supposed house of 'evil'. As such, they are much more likely to believe in my innocence and come to my aid then not."

Even McCullough's announcement that he had proven his wit worthy of a Slytherin and therefore had been initiated had not abated the fury in Crinkly. Luckily for Harry, McCullough seemed to be the real leader of the Slytherins as he bowed in appreciation to Harry and ushered the rest of the upper-years out. Only once they had all vacated did Harry bother to release his breathe. He cautiously left the confines of his curtains, leaving them open enough to quickly enter into their safety if one of the upper-years decided to return and proceeded to get ready for the day. That had been one of the most nerve wracking and adrenaline pumping experiences of Harry's life. Trying to retain control and find a way out of a nearly impossible situation. In his haste he failed to see the light glow around his lock. He cursed vehemently as it burned his hand and turned his skin green before finally opening to show that female undergarments had replaced most everything.

The rest of the week passed by in equal standing. First the lock - he resorted to wearing the same clothes - then using those damned quills, all his notes were covered in ink splotches before he was able to nick a pencil from one of the Hufflepuffs. He had managed to get rid of the green skin before the end of breakfast, by research in the library, but the sting in his hand had remained throughout the day. His only luck being that he had opened the trunk with his non-dominant hand. His trunk now sat on his bed behind the safety of his curtains.

He had been outcasted by all houses including his own before the start of lunch, and cursed an additional yellow, blue, red, pink and purple. He'd sprouted wings and horns, and at one point his voice squawked and he could only move by dancing the foxtrot. The Gryffindors alone had grown his hair, shaved it, caused it to sprout feathers and then turn into vipers for ten seconds before McGonagall changed it back to its unruly mess and docked thirty points a piece. After each incident he quickly ran to the library to find the counter-curses and became quite apt at using _Finite_. By the third day of unrelenting curses and hexes, he learned how to create and maintain a personal shield and how to indentify foods that had been tampered with. In an odd way it was good, because he was learning more then he had ever thought possible, especially when all they seemed to learn how to do in class was levitate feathers and change toothpicks into needles. It was just unfortunate the circumstances that such knowledge stemmed from, but really, was he to expect any better? From what he could tell, they were no different from the muggles, except for the fact that they had magic to enhance their hatred of him. Even the professors were confused as to whether or not they should praise him because he got everything right, or scold him because he was a Slytherin who did it. The only exception to this was Snape who just hated everyone, Gryffindors in particular, and luckily for Harry his Potions classes were shared with the Gryffindors, which made them the targets instead of himself. It was his only reprieve, and so far was the only thing that made him happy to be in Slytherin. That, and their lack of personal questions.

It was on the sixth day however that things had a turn for the worse, when he was cursed down six flights of stairs from a combined effort of the other houses. Ironically, the only thing that they seemed to ever work together on was their attacks on him. In defense of his house mates, they didn't actively participate in this assault of his person, but their inaction caused him two broken ribs, a fractured wrist, a shattered femur, a concussion and a punctured lung. They would have probably left him to bleed out if he hadn't fallen through the banister and landed at the feet of the professors, newly released from the first staff meeting of the week. He just managed to process Sprout's screams and Snape, Flitwick and McGonagall freezing all the students in place before he passed out from a lack of oxygen, shock and loss of blood. It seems they had managed to slice his femoral artery and collapse his windpipe as well.

He woke on the tenth day, and was released on the thirteenth to the care of his head of house. From what he had been told, all sixty-two of those who had borne witness were given three weeks detention, each house was actually in the negative for house points, and the sixteen fools who had cursed him were suspended for two weeks. Any further action on their parts and they were to be expelled and tried for attempted murder. It turns out his heart had stopped beating: twice. Harry made a note to check the student logs and write down their names for further notice as he gingerly walked back with his head of house to the Slytherin common room. His professor seemed to stop and start several times as if debating to tell Harry something before finally stopping at the entrance to the common room and turned to face the first year. Harry leaned heavily on his crutches; it would be a while before he could walk properly again. His femur had to heal the muggle way. According to Madam Pomphrey, his body had absorbed too much healing magic in too little a time span, especially for one not used to outside magics so he had only been given enough Skele-gro to ensure that the shattered bone had instead become a clean break. Harry didn't care, it was better then the pins and plates that the muggle surgeons would have resorted to.

"I am sorry Harry." The professor whispered, startling Harry out of his stupor, leaving him wary, what had the professor to be sorry for? Unless he was apologizing in advance for something that we was about to do, Vernon used to do that, only the professor didn't have the same sort of expression or body language that Vernon did before he bashed Harry's head in. He was either a really good person genuinely sorry for something that Harry had yet to figure out, or meant something else entirely which would undoubtedly land him back in the Hospital Wing, if not the morgue. Harry hoped it was the former; he couldn't deal with the professor trying to kill him along with the rest of the student body, not when his classes were his only reprieve.

"You think of my classes as a reprieve?" the professor asked, shocked. Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion, before nodding, he had not voiced that aloud, and the professor was acting out of character. He was almost too _nice_ to be the real Snape. Not to mention he had called him Harry, up until this point he had only been referred to as Mr. Potter. It was a far cry from being called boy and freak, but still nothing as personal as his first name. The professor must have realized his mistake or was preparing for something, because an uneasy silence had descended upon them again. Harry was trying hard not to fidget in his place, or draw attention to himself but he wanted to ensure that his belongings were safe. It had been several days since he had been in his shared room, and he was nervous as to what the Slytherins could have done in an hour, let alone a week. His only problem was that Snape was blocking the entranceway, and it would certainly enrage the professor if he pushed past him.

"What, may I ask, are you sorry for?" he finally managed to say, trying to make the intrusion as polite as possible. He also had to use the facilities. Snape snapped his head up, and it took all of Harry had not to bolt on the spot. Running had always meant a harsher punishment, and unlike Uncle Vernon who had to wait hours before he returned, usually with Police Officers who took him for a runaway, Harry was pretty sure that Snape could easily catch up to him, even without his crutches. Instead, he managed to look at the professor, not in the eye, but just beyond his head. Even then, the professor looked … regretful, empathetic, maybe? He was unsure what the emotion was, but as quickly as he had seen it, it was gone.

"I am apologizing for the behaviour of the other Slytherins." Harry almost interrupted to say that he was not responsible for their behaviour. It was not like the professor had cursed him. "I knew from the beginning that life for you in Slytherin would be - onerous. However, their actions were reprehensible and completely opprobrious for Slytherins. The moment the other Houses had decided to ostracize you, and had nominated you for persecution, as your housemates, they should have rallied with you. Or at the very least supported you. Instead, I found them negligent towards you and worse, conspiring against you."

"Oh." Was all Harry found himself saying, unsure of how to take this rather detailed apology, half of which he didn't not fully understand. It was not an eloquent response, but it was all he could manage in that moment.

"They have since been warned against continuing with such actions in the future." The professor continued. "If circumstances do not change, and these problems do persist, please Harry," there was his name again "I must insist that you report to me immediately. I have several methods in which to ensure their _compliance_." Against his better judgment, Harry found himself smirking along with the professor.

"You mean lemon drops don't work?" came his rather sardonic reply. Harry wanted to cry at his own stupidity, perhaps even sew his own mouth shut, providing of course that the professor didn't do so first. To his surprise the professor only gave a rather derisive snort.

"So I've been told." Here he coughed slightly, almost awkwardly before whispering the week's password _be not solitary, be not idle_. What little noise could be heard from the common room stopped immediately upon their arrival. Nervously in the shadows, Harry steeled his courage before shuffling through the archway in as proud and graceful a manner as humanly possible. It was bad enough that he was on crutches; he couldn't afford to show them any other weaknesses. They were worse then any vulture analogy could describe.


	4. Where You End I Begin

Chapter 3

His fifth week of school had certainly started better than his third. The Slytherins had no more greeted him with open arms then they would the entire Gryffindor house. Yet they did not let the other houses touch him, at least not within their eyesight; unfortunately for Harry, they had often found themselves blind when around him. But when the curses came a little to close to being painful or semi-dangerous the older Slytherins generally stepped in when it was shown that he could not defend himself appropriately. Adrien McCullough had put in a word for him stating that his unrelenting survival despite all odds was surely a Slytherin trait and should be justly rewarded. He then snipped something about how just because he, Harry, was barely a Slytherin, did not mean that they should go back on their words as Slytherins and disrupt their code. It would probably explain why on what should be his sixth day of flying lessons he was finally able to attend them for the first time. If he were to be frank, and perhaps allow himself some small measure of hope, he was quite looking forward to flying. He had heard the other students talk of them with excitement and glee. He had even watched a few lessons while confined to the hospital wing, granted they were a little hazy what with the various potions and concussions that usually accompanied his stay at the hospital wing. Although if he were to be perfectly honest, the potions were generally already present in the hospital wing when he arrived, aside from the rare potion or two that professor Snape had to make for him on occasion. Those ones did indeed follow him to the hospital wing as well as a snide comment or two presented with their delivery. His personal favourite was "Merlin Potter here again? Either learn to defend yourself completely or get better allies. As it is, I've wasted more potions ingredients on your person in these past three weeks then I ever will on the rest of the first years, unless of course they develop your luck. If that's the case I would highly suggest you develop stock in all the surrounding apocetharies, or do me a favour and let me kill you myself, it will save me the trouble of having to make these onerous potions for you when you clearly do not appreciate the effort put forth. If you did appreciate, my effort that is, you would not end up in this forsaken place nearly as often." It was rather long winded as far as insults go, but given with the right derision, which Snape could aptly provide, it was simply cut-throat.

Or at least Harry had thought so at the time. But now was not the time for that. At present Harry found himself standing beside a school broom, his wand in his left hand tightly clenched under his sleeve, his right wavering slightly above the handle. All the Slytherin and Gryffindor first years were standing aside their brooms looking at Harry expectantly. Madam Hooch had thought it a simply splendid idea to have Harry go first. He looked uncertainly at his broom before he heard her whistle blow and he shouted forcefully "Up!" To his immense surprise the broom came straight to his hand, he smiled fondly as he straddled the broom. He ignored the comments surrounding him, paying particular attention to the words of Madam Hooch. It would do him no good to fail miserably at flying, not when he had looked so forward to it, the other kids would only tease him mercilessly about it. He was not nearly as bad as he feared he would be, if Madam Hooch's joyful smile was anything to go by. She then started letting the other kids into the air again, and while some barely strayed above the ground there were others who were clearly born to fly.

After twenty minutes of free-flying, Madam Hooch blew the whistle and called them all down to the ground.

"This," she explained once the last broom was touching the soil, "is a snitch. It is one of three balls used in Quidditch, worth 150 points, it can only be caught by the seeker, of which there are one per team, and it's capture by one of said seekers officially ends the game." She held the snitch between her thumb and middle finger. The movement of the golden wings reminded Harry of a National Geographic special he had once watched in science class about Hummingbirds. While Harry mused about muggle documentaries, Madam Hooch released the snitch. Amused, Harry watched its progress, wondering why he had heard some of the older boys complain about the difficulty involved in catching it. It didn't seem so bad to Harry. After a minute of it fluttering in the air, Madam Hooch mounted her broom and flew towards it. Within a couple of minutes she had returned to the ground, the snitch safely nestled between her fingers.

"Now class, the question remains, who could see it before I went after it?" Confused, Harry raised his hand, couldn't everyone see it? He answered his own question as he looked around the class, there were six other hands raised along side his own, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Dean Thomas, Lavendar Brown and most surprisingly, Vincent Crabbe and Neville Longbottom also raised their hands. Madam Hooch hummed to herself, making a mental note of the hands raised, Harry assumed, before motioning for them to once again lower their hands. She then asked who could see it once she had started chasing it. A few more hands were raised this time, but to Harry's surprise there were still quite a few students whose hands did not go up at all. For instance, Hermione Granger did not once raise her hand, and neither did Gregory Goyle.

"For those of you who cannot see the snitch at all in the air, I am letting you know in advance that for this next task you will be at quite the disadvantage, and if you would like to, you are more then welcome to have a seat on the ground. Now that the majority of you have a firm basis in flying," here Harry beamed slightly, it had only been his first day after all, "we are going to be doing some activities centered around Quidditch. Some of you will excel, some not at all, but the purpose of these activities is not only to introduce the possibility of Quidditch to those who might not of originally thought to play, but to ultimately have fun. For this first activity we will continue using this practice snitch, as some of you may know a practice snitch varies from the real snitch in that it is not as illusive and flies at a moderately slower pace. It also maxes out at seventy-five feet off the ground. Aside from those who cannot see the snitch at all, the rest of you are highly encouraged to participate in this challenge considering that your grade in this class is based almost entirely on participation. If after the game has begun and you wish to drop out because you do not believe that your flying capabilities are up to par, then that is perfectly acceptable. However I want you to all try." After her little speech Madam Hooch led them into the Quidditch Pitch to begin their 'game'. Once inside she explained that it was an extraordinarily simple game to play, in theory, all one had to do was be the first person the catch the snitch. And in theory it was simple, there were no bludgers, no chasers, they were not allowed to knock off, hex, push, kick, knee, elbow, hit or curse any of the other participants or the snitch. The snitch itself wouldn't rise over seventy-five feet, and it wouldn't leave the boundaries of the Quidditch pitch. All they really had to do was catch a small golden ball while flying. Simple? After nearly twenty minutes of searching and chasing after the snitch Harry decided that no, it was not nearly as simple as it sounded. To make matters worse, the captains of the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams, Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint respectively, were watching the game to observe any potential future players. Hermione Granger, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Parvarti Patil had all stayed on the ground, and within a couple of minutes Neville Longbottom, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, and Lavendar Brown quickly joined them. One by one, the students left the game, Seamus Finnigan, Blaise Zabini, Ronald Weasley, Vincent Crabbe, Daphne Greengrass, and Theodore Nott. Eventually it was just Dean, Draco and Harry left in the air. Harry took a brief pause in his quest for the snitch in order to size up the remaining players, from the looks of things it would be Harry and Draco left at the end, Dean could spot the snitch easily, but his flying was rather weak. Harry himself felt as if he could live the rest of his life in the air, right there on that school broom, he felt more at home then anywhere else in the world. After another five minutes in the air Dean left the game. It was now down to the two Slytherins, Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin; and Harry Potter, the Hogwarts Outcast. Another five minutes had passed, and neither had seen the snitch, leaving Harry to wonder exactly how illusive a real snitch would be.

"You should quit now Potter, I've been flying practically my whole life." Malfoy taunted from across the pitch. He seemed to have use a spell to amplify his voice, _Sonorus_ if Harry remembered correctly, before casting it on himself.

"Which is why, from what I hear, Madam Hooch had to correct your grip on the first day." He shot back, making sure to keep his eyes searching for the snitch. If Malfoy wanted to taunt him that was fine, he wouldn't rise to the bait, and he could give as good as he got, but he was not going to loose sight of the snitch because he was too busy firing a retort to that prick.

"Oh that's right, this is Precious Potter's first day of flying." He cackled back, rather unoriginally in Harry's opinion.

"That's right Malfoy, my first day and your whole life, and yet we're neck and neck – what's that say about your flying abilities?" Harry heard a familiar chuckle, and turned to the left, other students had begun filling in the bleachers, and there beside Flint was McCullough. There beside McCullough was the snitch! Harry took a quick glance around the pitch. Malfoy was closer to the snitch and would probably make it before Harry, but from the looks of things, Malfoy in his taunting had yet to see the snitch. Making a quick decision, Harry looked up at Malfoy and smirked, taking care to the keep the snitch in his peripheral vision.

"It either makes me an amazing flyer or you rather shitty one now doesn't it Malfoy?" To his immense delight there was more laughter, and Malfoy, in his rage, flew straight at Harry. There was no doubt that his intention was on sending Harry flying off of his broom. Unfortunately for Malfoy, it was Harry's intention for him to do just that. Playing up the fact that it really was his first day of flying, Harry pretended to be frozen in fear. In reality, Harry was calculating the best possible time to make his move, while keeping an eye on the snitch which while stationary now, was probably not going to remain so for very long. Then it all happened in a sort of blur where time slowed, which when reflecting on it afterwards, Harry thought was rather clichéd. He ducked under Malfoy, who then tried to reach down and grab him, but Harry barrel-rolled around him, coincidently also pointing himself in the direction of the bleachers where the snitch was still hovering just beside the head of McCullough. Harry darted forwards. As he grew close enough that it looked as if he were to crash, he threw his broom to the side in an effort to slow down in order to catch the snitch. He ignored the shouts of those in the bleachers who no doubt thought Harry was crazy and trying to kill them. Reaching out his hand, the snitch decided that it was going to stop hovering and darted away from the bleachers in a downward angle. Harry quickly pushed off the bleachers, arcing backwards so that he was following the snitch upside down. The snitch made a right, so did Harry. It made a quick drop down, and so did Harry. Eventually, Harry found himself right side up, about five feet off the ground, and about two feet away from the snitch.

By this point those watching the proceedings realized that he had been chasing after the snitch. Malfoy had the same realization just as Harry was arcing off the railing, and tried to race towards him in a last ditch attempt to try and catch the snitch. Harry twisted and turned with the movements of the snitch, trying in earnest to think ahead of the snitch, and guess its movements. It was surprisingly hard trying predicting the motions of an inanimate object. Although Harry realized, in a way, the snitch actually was animated, just with magic instead of a brain. Despite all of this, he had to catch the snitch soon, because while his stunt had given him a great lead against Malfoy, all of the zigzagging he had done after the snitch had allowed the blonde to begin the monstrous task of catching up. By this point Harry was about twelve feet off the ground, and right by the goal posts. Suddenly he had an idea. He made one last turn with the snitch, thanking the gods that be that the snitch had in fact turned in this direction, before he jumped off his broom. With his left hand he grabbed the snitch. His right hand, elbow and leg however, he used to hook around the goal post, resulting in his spinning descent in a rather odd combination of a fireman's and a stripper's pole. Harry of course thought of neither of those things. He was instead reminded of the old playground at his school, and the blue pole that the students would take turns sliding down during recess. Dudley always got stuck in the narrow space between the pole and the other equipment. Harry was always stuck hiding in the library or behind the bushes beside the equipment. Although his legs felt like jelly upon touching the ground, and he had to hold onto the pole for another minute or so to regain his balance while the snitch fluttered uselessly in his hand, Harry thought that perhaps that was the coolest thing he had ever done in his life, and by far beat any sort of meager enjoyment that could have been derived from that measly blue pole that had always remained just out of his reach.

"Potter!" Harry turned around and saw most of his classmates, and some of the older students who had come to watch running towards him. Without a moment's delay Harry threw the snitch at the students and ran.


	5. 4 Minute Warning

Chapter 4 –

He was sitting alone in the library when the other Slytherins found him. He was tucked away in 'his' corner, which was close enough to the librarian's desk that those seeking to harm him wouldn't curse him, but far enough into the background so that they wouldn't always see him. He had learned from an early age that remaining unseen and out of the way often kept you out of harms way, if only momentarily. It also helped that because many could not see him, they would often reveal secrets or rumours that he would otherwise have not been told.

"Potter." Harry raised his head cautiously above the book he had been reading at the harsh whisper. It was one of the four books on Quidditch that he had begun to read after his flight from the Quidditch stadium. The game and its rules had sparked his interest, and since having no friends left plenty of room for homework completion, he also had a lot of time for extra curricular reading. He then neatly closed the book and placed it in a pile to his left, before meeting the eyes of those surrounding him. Although only one had spoken, he sensed that there were others there, and he was not wrong. Along with Flint, who had been the one to speak, McCullough, Pucey, Bletchley, Higgs, Bole, Derrick, Crinkly, Warrington, and surprisingly Wood, all stood in front of Harry's table. Not one of the Slytherins sat down when Harry motioned for them to do so, so Harry did not stand. Instead, Harry pushed his chair back slightly so that he would not be looking up at them as Wood sat in the chair facing Harry. Crinkly scowled at the challenge presented by the young Slytherin, but McCullough put a warning hand on his wrist. Harry patiently folded his hands on his lap as he waited for them to speak again.

"Potter." Flint growled, unimpressed by this showmanship. Harry quirked his head slightly, to show that he was listening and curious, but still refused to speak. It was Wood, the Gryffindor, who broke the silence.

"You threw this at us when you left the game." He said, ignoring the slight power struggle, as he presented the snitch from inside his robes. Harry was a little curious as to why Wood was with this group. If his hypothesis of their presence was correct, it still did not explain Wood's part in all this, but he could also think of no other reason as to why the entirety of the Slytherin Quidditch team was standing in front of him.

"I caught it." He answered as if stating the obvious to a toddler. "Then class was over, so I returned it and left." He remained as expressionless as he could, and ignored the fact that he hadn't left the stadium because class was over, but instead had run from it because he was terrified of the large crowd running towards him.

"Quite an interesting way to return it, don't you think Potter?" McCullough asked, "I think my chest is going to bruise." Harry shrugged his shoulders; there was nothing he could do, and was unwilling to explain. "Go see Madam Pomphrey" was his only suggestion, but he did not voice it. There was no sense in unjustly provoking them, especially not when McCullough was the only one who didn't actively participate in Harry Hunting, the Wizarding Edition.

"We want you to play seeker for Slytherin." Flint said gruffly after another period of silence. Wood reared his head back in surprise, he clearly did not know about this, which made his presence there even more curious.

"What? No! First years can't join the team. You said we were just returning the snitch Flint." Came his outraged cries, hushed slightly by the fact that he was trying to whisper to avoid Madam Pince. He was however interrupted by Harry's reply.

"What will you give me for it?"

Most of the Slytherins laughed. Wood looked at him curiously and McCullough smirked. Harry seemed unfazed by their laughter and merely looked up at them expectantly.

"Potter," guffawed Crinkly "we don't have to give you anything to play on our Quidditch team, just be thankful that we're asking you at all."

"Our Quidditch team Crinkly? From what I hear you can't even make it off the ground four feet without wetting your pants." Taunted Harry. In retrospect, it was probably not the best thing to do to the seventh year but he enjoyed it nevertheless, his earlier scruples about provoking those who outnumbered him were set aside in the interest of negotiating. It was better to put up a confident front then a scared one when negotiating under duress, the outcome was more likely to turn in his favour. It rarely did, but Fortune and Fate were fickle, and both clearly out for his blood.

"Regardless." Higgs interrupted as McCullough strengthened his hold on Crinkly, no doubt whispering something about needing Harry alive to play. "Why do we have to give you anything? I can play seeker well enough that we don't even need you Potter, and chasers are a dime a dozen."

"Then do so."

Most of them were gob smacked at Harry's reply. Wood seemed torn between happiness that Harry wasn't going to play for his main opposition, and confused as to why someone wouldn't play Quidditch. Ignoring their expressions, Harry reached for his book. Flint snapped the book back down on the table as he leaned forward to intimidate Harry. Harry had to admit that it was a pretty good intimidation tactic, and a few weeks ago it would have worked without fail, but he was quickly learning.

"I don't think you understand Potter, this was not a request and this is not a negotiation. You will play Quidditch."

"First years are not allowed to play Quidditch."

"Correction, first years are not allowed their own broom. The rules state nothing about Quidditch." Thanks to the book Flint had slammed on the table Harry already knew this. "Most just take that to imply that first years cannot also play Quidditch. There are however several upper years who are more then willing to lend you their brooms to play for Slytherin."

"Hmm. Again, what will I be gaining from it?" he asked, ignoring the voice in his head asking how could they guarantee that this broom wouldn't be cursed.

"You will be playing Quidditch, there is nothing to else gain! This is not a negotiation."

"I want immunity in Slytherin, and your help in fending off the other houses. And none of this shitty _help_ that you've given so far, but real aide. Genuine aide. None of this "I'm sorry Professor, I didn't see anything" bullshit. If I'm in trouble I either want you to go directly to the closest and most competent teacher, or to quickly get me out of the situation, in one whole piece." Harry continued ignoring Flint's words that it was not a negotiation. "What good am I to you as a seeker if I'm dead?" he added sweetly. Flint clenched his teeth, but nodded his consent.

"A verbal reply that cannot be misconstrued if you please."

"No you are no good if you're dead, and yes you will be granted proper genuine help." He sneered.

"Happy?" Higgs scoffed.

"No. I want immunity in Slytherin."

"Can't do that." Higgs and Flint insisted.

"You most certainly can, and you will. Higgs you're a seventh year and a prefect. Crinkly holds a lot of power within the house, and is dating the female seventh year prefect. Flint is Captain of the Quidditch team, and McCullough is the sixth year prefect, his father owns the Nimbus Company and is one of the top three duelers in Slytherin. Bletchley is top of his class and his sister is also one of the top three duelers, and Warrington is the godson of Lucius Malfoy and Professor Sinistra. Not to mention the fact that Pucey's father is on the board of Governors and the Wizengmont, and his mother is the lead chaser of Puddlemore United. Bole's uncle is best friends with the wife of the Minister of Magic, and his sister is betrothed to the son of the Head of the International Wizard Federation and Derrick's family owns Honeydukes. Between the lot of you, you most certainly can guarantee me immunity. Besides, how am I to fly in the air if I'm afraid of my own house throwing curses at me?"

"Fine." Flint conceded grudgingly. It probably would have happened with Harry's position of seeker, but if it did not, it would not be that hard to arrange anyway, so he wouldn't really be losing anything. He was curious about Potter's intimate knowledge of them though.

"I also want – "

"What do you mean you also want Potter? This was not a negotiation, but we've been generous and granted you more then your share already." Higgs interrupted heatedly.

"Oh please, I may be a first year, but I'm not stupid. Most of that stuff would have come with my position as seeker anyways. By agreeing to what you already have, you have done nothing more then agree to ensure that which would already occur naturally. As I said, I'm no good to you injured or dead, so you would have already done what was in your power to guarantee that."

"What else would you like Potter?" Derrick questioned neutrally.

"Besides everything that I've already asked for?" Harry asked innocently.

"Yes, besides what you've already asked for."

"I want help with my school work, and to be tutored in four subjects of my choosing, indefinitely."

"So long as the subjects are not illegal that can easily be done." Flint agreed, as a Slytherin Prefect he was supposed to help the younger years anyway, and Snape had been kindly reminding him of that fact for several days now.

"I want you to swear that so long as I become seeker you will grant me Slytherin immunity, _genuine_ aide against the other houses, help with my school work and to be tutored in four subjects of my choosing, and to ensure that all others will abide by this." Harry asked before anything else could be added or said. McCullough narrowed his eyes in suspicion, as Flint grudgingly agreed to the oath and swore

"I, Marcus Aurelius Flint Quidditch Captain of Slytherin House, Heir to the House of Flint, hereby swear that so long as one Lord Harrison James Potter, son of Lord James Arnold Potter and Lady Lily Rose Potter nee Evans, and heir to the House of Black, becomes a seeker I, and all those standing here along with me, will grant him Slytherin immunity, _genuine _aide against the other houses, help with his school work and tutoring in four subjects of his choosing, so long as said subjects are not considered illegal. With Magic and all those present as witness, so mote it be."

"I also want three favours from each of you to be determined and invoked at a later date."

"I am not granting you 27 undecided favours."

"Don't worry, they won't be anything that you are physically, emotionally, magically, monetarily, and morally incapable of. Just 3 favours to be decided at a later date that must be fulfilled, each."

"I'm doing you a big enough favour of not hexing you into the ground Potter." growled Bole. Derrick, Flint, Bletchley, Crinkly, Warrington and Higgs nodded in agreement. "Not to mention agreeing to those ridiculous conditions."

"Still, I want those favours. I will not play as your seeker if you do not agree to those conditions." Harry insisted firmly, leaning forward in what would normally be considered as a menacing and intimidating manner.

"Sit back you little shit, and stop trying to be tough and trying to outsmart us." Crinkly snarled, ripping his arm out of McCullough's grip as he stalked forward. "These _negotiations_ are ridiculous. You've caught yourself in a trap you pseudo-slytherin. A first year's mistake, if you will. You don't play as seeker and you lose all of your other privileges. That brings you back to square one, sitting here hiding in the corner like a coward with no friends and no protectors. So take what you have and be grateful you little snit." He motioned for the other Slytherins to follow him as he began to storm away.

"Practice is Tuesdays and Thursday 7-9pm and Saturdays 9am – 12pm." Could be heard in their wake. Harry smirked and leaned forward unperturbed. This would be interesting.


	6. Stop Whispering

Chapter 5 –

Harry had enjoyed a relatively quiet and peaceful time at Hogwarts following the "library discussion", as he liked to call it. He showed up for the Slytherin Quidditch practices and in turn nobody bothered him. He didn't exactly have any friends, but being ignored was sometimes better. However, most of the school didn't know why Harry was suddenly off limits. Flint had decided that it was in his team's best interests to keep Harry a secret from the other houses lest they sabotage his key player. Much to his chagrin the Gryffindor team also had a mysterious seeker, one who only their team knew, and Flint knew better then to mess with the Gryffindor quidditch team outside of the air. Gryffindors they may be, slouches they were not. The Weasely twins alone were enough to give any sane, self-preserving person pause.

Currently Harry found himself in the potions labs slicing hawthorn roots, and pickling African fruit bat wings. The same night that the Quidditch team had cornered him in the library Professor Snape had summoned him to his office to powder bicorn horns.

"I do not know what game you play at Potter but let us hope that you have learned enough to remain afloat."

It was the only thing he had said that night aside from that Harry was expected to come to his office every Wednesday and Friday night. Many of the students and a few of the faculty assumed that he was serving a multitude of detentions and neither Harry nor Snape dissuaded any of them of this notion. How else was he to explain, if anyone cared to ask, that he spent two nights a week mashing, powdering, slicing, cutting and gutting a variety of the most revolting potions ingredients in a relatively companionable silence with the most hated potions professor? Or, that he rather enjoyed it? No, Harry thought it was best if they all just thought he was serving many, many detentions. As the weeks wore on though their silence lessened and Harry formed an understanding with his professor.

"I'd always wondered why the school sent so many letters to my Muggle relatives, and why with owls." Harry mentioned offhandedly. If Severus was surprised by his Slytherin's sudden desire to be talkative and forthcoming, it was not visible on his face or in his tone. "I mean, what sort of muggle would actually accept mail delivered by an owl as anything but an elaborate hoax?"

"Potter, your aunt knew about Hogwarts –"

"It certainly didn't stop her from having my Hogwarts letters burned." Harry snorted cynically.

"You allowed your Hogwarts letter to be burnt?" Snape asked incredulously catching himself in time to continue stirring.

"Letters Professor, and I didn't have much of a choice. It's not like I knew what they were."

"How could you not have known Potter?" the professor scoffed. "Those letters are what every magical child in Britain dreams of receiving upon their eleventh birthday. It is one of the most prestigious things a child can receive, some of the more fanatical parents even frame them."

"Tell that to my uncle sir, he burnt about two hundred of the damned things."

Infuriated, the professor snapped a stasis charm on his potions before whirling around to stare at Harry. "Your uncle burn nearly two hundred Hogwarts letters?" Harry stopped slicing the salamander tails.

"Yes."

"And you let him? Potter of all the pigheaded things I've ever – "

" – I didn't let him sir!"

"But you didn't stop him did you Potter?"

"It's not like I had a choice! I didn't know what the bloody things were!" shouted Harry dropping his knife onto the table.

"That's rich, the great Harry Potter didn't know what a Hogwarts letter was and let his Muggle uncle destroy nearly two hundred of them. Trying to set a record Potter to see how desperate Hogwarts is to get the Boy-Who-Lived? No child has ever received more then one letter in which to reply to, and here you are burning them in the hundreds. No, wait, it wasn't your fault now was it Potter?" he sneered. Harry stood facing him, fists and lips clenched shut, glaring, but it lacked the usual vehemence. It had finally happened, just like always, he had gotten close to someone, and they turned on him. Only this time there were no Dursleys to force them, there was just Harry. Maybe it had always been just Harry.

"I didn't have a choice." he murmured, desperately hoping for one last chance.

"Did he lock the door on you Potter?" the professor taunted.

Harry snapped his head up to stare directly in the Professor's eyes.

"Actually Professor he locked me in my cupboard under the stairs. You know, where most people keep their brooms and cleaning supplies? I was fortunate to grow up snuggling right beside them." Was what he wanted so desperately to shout and sneer in the Professor's face, just to watch his reaction. It was what he wanted to do. He didn't though. He wouldn't give that man the satisfaction. Instead he whispered the words, "Yeah, something like that sir," as he walked out of the laboratory doors.

Harry's unspoken words rang through the professor's head as he belatedly watched the boy leave the room. _My cupboard under the stairs._

- - - - - -

Saturday Morning dawned bright and early for the Slytherin Quidditch team. Today was the eagerly anticipated Slytherin – Gryffindor match, and the whole school was up discussing the upcoming battle, and the transgressions of past matches with glee. A popular topic amongst the more avid fans, were the possibilities of potential seekers. Both teams had found new seekers, and both teams were viciously guarding the secrets of their seekers – according to the latest gossip – on the penalty of death. Between Flint's perniciousness and Wood's obsession of Quidditch both on a off the field, the possibility of death was prominent, and the identity of their respective seekers was easily the most heavily guarded secret in all of Hogwarts. Privacy wards, invisibility spells and repellant charms had been used before, during, and after all Quidditch practices, and several so called "snoops" had been heavily hexed before being removed to the hospital wing. The Hufflepuffs were still lamenting the loss of their star chaser who currently resembled a cross between a large spit-wad and a chimera. All too soon, it was time for the match to begin and swarms of students eagerly made their way to the Quidditch stands hoping to get good seats in order to watch the age-old rivals battle it out in the air. They were unfortunately missing one of the most monumental pre-game talks ever recorded in the history of Hogwarts as Flint went ballistic on his team. Steam was literally billowing from his ears, and vicious sparks were shooting from his wand, which was unfortunately aimed at Bletchley's head.

"What do you mean you don't know where Potter is? The match starts in less then five minute and our star Seeker is no where to be found you imbeciles!" Flint screamed, his face growing an angry puce colour in his fury. Bletchley fortunately ducked the sparks that flew from his wand.

"I told you to go fetch him Bletchley!"

"I did! But when I got there, he'd already left." Bletchley said from his lowered position.

"He'll show Flint, the brat has too much to lose if he doesn't." Higgs soothed from where he was laying on the benches with his eyes closed. "And, if he doesn't we'll put Pucey back in as Chaser and I'll play seeker. That's the beauty of reserves."

"Besides," Warrington added from beside Higgs "the only decent seekers this year were that Malfoy kid and Potter, both of who are in _our_ house. The Gryffindors haven't had a worthy seeker since that last Weasley, so even if Higgs does have to play seeker, we wont have to worry on that front."

Flint didn't look pleased at the suggestions, but he had lowered his wand and motioned for the team to gather by the locker room doors. It was time to play Quidditch, he could worry about that Potter brat at a later date.

- - - - - -

Harry had learned from early on to watch the wording of everything. Words had the ability to uplift you and to send you crashing down. In his experience the spoken word was cutting, and harsh, able to manipulate and ultimately mislead you. If a word was missing, or deliberately left out, you could be deprived of crucial information without even knowing. The Dursleys in particular liked to employ this particular trick in order to find some excuse to beat him with, and when the chance presented itself, Harry liked to turn their words back on them, or in Dudley's case mix words and sentence structures to insult him without him knowing. It was a cheap form of revenge, and nothing compared to what he really wanted to do, but in a place where he got little to nothing at all, he would take what he could get without question. In the wizarding world words held a similar power, but also a more advanced one. Words had the power of casting spells and enchantments. They had the ability to curse your enemies beyond recognition and repair, or to charm them into your control. You could aid lives and cure the sick all with a simple spell or incantation. However, words here were trickier, and if you were heedless with your wording you would soon find yourself bound to those words with consequences ranging from mild stinging hexes, to a loss of magic, and possibly even death. As such, when daring to talk, placement of words and ultimately thinking of what you say is key. Why? because quite often, it's not what you say, but what you don't say which gives you the real advantage. This advantage often comes in the form of loopholes: loopholes, where you've fulfilled your end of the bargain, and they're still held to theirs, loopholes, where the manipulator becomes the manipulated. It was words, Harry knew, that were a power like none else.


	7. Karma Police

Chapter 6 –

" – this proves to be one of the most intense starting matches in the history of Hogwarts ladies and gentleman. Both teams have found new top-secret seekers and the valiant Gryffindors are itching for the return of their rightful title of the winners of the Quidditch Cup. A title they have not held since the illustrious Charlie Weasley slaughtered those slimy –"

"Jordan, announce the teams."

"Right Professor. Now, ladies and gents I know you're itching to find out the identity of these seekers, am I right?" Lee Jordan hollered from his seat beside the transfiguration mistress. A thunderous applause from all four houses met his request.

"Now, without further ado, I give you SLYTHERIN! Chasers Adrian Pucey, Calleum Warrington and Captain Marcus Flint; Keeper, Miles Bletchley; Beaters Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick and of course their mystery Seeker … Higgs? What? How is Terrence Higgs a mystery? Unless they were just trying to psych us out, what a typical Slytherin move. Well there you have it ladies and gentleman Slytherin's secret seeker is the same one from last year."

The Slytherin team flew onto the pitch, furious at how bad Potter was making them look, but with their head held high despite the booing and laughter from three-quarters of Hogwarts. Flint nodded subtly at his teammates, first they had to slaughter the Gryffindor team, and then they were going to kill Potter.

The Gryffindor seeker however stood nervously with the rest of the team, waiting to be called onto the pitch.

"What a disappointment that was, especially for those of you who put money on their identities." Jordan commented with a sneer on his face waiting for his cue from the magical prompter. "Now let's see if the Gryffindors can win you back some galleons!" Cheering followed this announcement.

"I give you GRYFFINDOR! With Keeper and Captain Extraordinaire, Oliver Wood! Followed by Gryffindor's leading ladies Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell they are looking mighty fine this evening are they not –"

"-- Jordan."

"Sorry Professor. Next we have Gryffindor's Terror Twins, the Human Bludgers, Prankster Kings Extraordinaire, and my best buds, Gred and Forge Weasley! And of course the name you've all been waiting for ladies and gentleman I give you Gryffindor's Mystery Seeker - Harry Potter?" The students and many of their professors shared in Jordan's obvious confusion, a few even laughed thinking the entire thing an elaborate hoax. Surprisingly, it was Madam Hootch who called the teams in, as well as the four Heads of Houses and the Headmaster. The two teams flew in first, Harry itching out from behind the Weasley twins to face his house reasonably comfortable that none of them would do anything with so many witnesses.

"Potter you better get your ass over here or our deal is void." Flint threatened. Harry for his part merely stood his ground shaking his head.

"I want those twenty-seven favours." He called out ensuring to reaming loud enough that only the two teams could hear, while the professors and the rest of the school discussed what was happening.

"Potter you don't play as our seeker and you loose everything. You are not in a position to negotiate for those favours, and if you get over here in ten seconds I'll even consider not removing some of the conditions met in our original compromise." To the astonishment of Flint and the rest of the Slytherin team, both Harry and Wood smirked. It was Wood however who took over the negotiations.

"Here's where it gets interesting Flint, and where I gain the greatest and youngest seeker in a century. You're right, Harry does need to play as seeker in order to fulfill the bargain. However, what you didn't specify was which team he had to play for. In fact I do believe your words were only that he "becomes _a_ seeker.""

"If its any consolation Flint, I tried to warn you, I even told you that I wouldn't become _your_ seeker if you didn't grant me those favours." Harry for his part looked relatively remorseful.

Bole took that time to interrupt, a smug and superior look on his face as if he'd discovered the answer to all their problems. "There's one flaw though in your tidy little plan Potter. You're a Slytherin, and you can't play for anyone but Slytherin." He didn't notice the professors making their way over to the group apparently having come to a decision.

"Actually Mr. Bole," came Hootch's firm voice "Under the Holyhead clause Mr. Potter has every right to play for any team he wants. It was instated in 1182, then again in 1898 that any student who has been physically, mentally, magically or emotionally harmed by at least one third of their house for an extended period of time has every right to refuse to represent them in any extra curricular activity, and if agreed upon by another house could represent that new house."

McGonagall looked ready to faint with joy. The Quidditch cup was going to belong to Gryffindor. If that was not enough gloating material to use against Severus, she would never let him live down how it was one of his own Slytherin's who had allowed it to happen.

"Well since Potter has clearly chosen Gryffindor," she gushed with enthusiasm, "I do not see why the game cannot begin."

"Now Minerva, first years are not allowed to play." Severus added, his eyes promising extensive torture, if not actual murder to his team's captain if Potter did not play for them. He would not loose because his Slytherins couldn't follow a set of House rules that he himself had helped establish.

"That's not entirely true Severus." Corrected Madam Hootch." First years are not allowed a broom, so long as that Cleansweep Eight isn't Mr. Potter's he is more then welcome to play. Whose broom is it?" Katie Bell raised her hand from in the air.

"It was my brother's m'am. He does flying acrobatics, so when the new Nimbus came out he bought it and said I could have his Cleansweep, but I like my Comet Two-Sixty. So, I said Harry could borrow it until either my Comet died, or he was allowed his own broom."

"There you go Severus, a perfectly reasonable explanation that doesn't break any school rules." Announced Dumbledore with a genial smile, ending any further argument. "Now, if we may return to the game and begin, I do believe our spectators are getting rather restless." Everyone was in the stands trying to listen in to the conversation being said with various charms, or using their omnioculars in an attempt to read lips. Unfortunately for them, both Professors McGonagall and Snape had placed their own Silencing charms around the convened group. Severus gave one last glare to his Slytherins before following the headmaster and a rather gleeful McGonagall, but before Hootch could blow the whistle both Flint and Wood called for a time-out. In spite of Lee Jordan's "Is this ever going to end?" Hootch allowed the two-minute time-out, and the teams landed.

"Twenty-one favours strictly from those on the team, and the ability to refute one of them in exchange for a different favour." Flint called out to Harry after a thirty-second heated discussion with his team. Harry nodded his consent; he had been willing to go as low as fourteen favours.

"I, Marcus Aurelius Flint Quidditch Captain of Slytherin House, Heir to the House of Flint, hereby swear on behalf of the Slytherin Quidditch Team and myself that so long as one Lord Harrison James Potter, son of Lord James Arnold Potter and Lady Lily Rose Potter nee Evans, and heir to the House of Black, plays as Slytherin's Seeker we will grant him three favours each for a total of twenty-one favours, with the ability to each refute one favour in exchange for a different favour. With Magic and all those present as witness, as well as the willing participation of the aforementioned Slytherin Quidditch Team, so mote it be."

"So mote it be." Swore the rest of the team, as Harry handed Katie back her Cleansweep and walked over to the Slytherin's team. Higgs took delight in changing Harry's hair, skin and robes a particularly vehement shade of Slytherin Green while Pucey handed him his broom.

- - -

The twins had won the betting by placing a bet through Neville Longbottom of all people, that Harry Potter would be the Slytherin's new seeker. The only other person who had placed the same winning bet was Draco Malfoy. The twins lost the game however, but not nearly as horribly or as quickly as one might assume. Harry swore to the Gryffindors that if Slytherin did agree to have him back, he wouldn't play for the first ten minutes of the match. Flint nearly took his head off upon hearing the deal. At least until Harry calmly explained that Flint had no choice if he wanted Harry as seeker, because if Harry played before those ten minutes were up he risked loosing his magic and thus not being able to play at all. Flint scowled and promised compensation, but set up a timer before catching a dropped quaffle and returning to the game.

"Quidditch means that much to you?" Harry quietly asked in the locker room after the game. Flint didn't spare Harry a glance as he continued to towel dry his hair. When he was finished he tossed the towel into the hamper and proceeded to get dressed. Harry looked away politely, waiting.

"Why aren't you showered?" came the gruff reply.

"I – I left my clothes in the Gryffindor lockers and didn't think it would be safe to go in there after we trounced them. So there's no point in me showering just to change back into dirty clothes." Harry lied.

"Hmm. Why haven't you left to go shower in the dungeons then?"

"Because I'm not stupid enough to walk back alone."

"But you'll pull a stupid stunt like the one you pulled earlier?" he snarled incredulous, finally whipping his head around to glare at Harry.

"It wasn't stupid. It was needed." Harry protested, flinching, his voice was just as quiet as the first question he asked but nowhere near as timid.

"Needed how? Needed to make a mockery of Slytherin to the other houses? Who needs house solidarity when you can just flake to the other team? Did you need to one-up the rest of us? To show that perfect Potter is better? To get back at us because we didn't bow down to you at first? To –"

"No, nothing like that."

"Then why? Because you've done all of those things, and very nearly out casted yourself even further Potter, if you hadn't won so quickly after starting the game you very well might have. So what is so important, so _needed_ that you would risk everything?" The rest of the team had quietly come out of the showers at the yelling but ensured to remain out of firing range and out of immediate sight. They were just as curious as Flint for Potter's reasoning, however Flint was probably closer or more able to get the truth out of Potter then the rest of them.

"Because it was needed." Harry whispered, both angry and upset. Flint didn't understand, and couldn't understand. He just wanted this conversation to end. Why couldn't Flint have answered the first question he had asked and left it at that? Harry knew he was slowly loosing control, he could feel his magic moving throughout him sensing his distress.

"Because _why_ Potter? Why was it so badly needed Harry?"

Harry shook his head, biting his lip from crying out. Today had been trying and stressful, and it was getting to him. Flint apparently could feel the magic rising because he took a different direction and sat down on the bench across from Harry with a deep breath.

"It is tradition in my family to pursue a highly profitable but short career after graduating Hogwarts before our inheritance. Or to even get a mastery, but Masters are few and far between and I do not have the grades to guarantee me a position with one. My father has a double mastery, as does my grandfather, and not only does my uncle have his mastery in Potions, but he co-invented the Wolfsbane potion, while my cousin just developed and launched her own international clothing line. I've searched through everything, and Professional Quidditch is my only solution if I ever wish to become Lord Flint. Quidditch Scouts are more likely to visit you not only if you are a good player, but also if you play for a winning team. So yes, Quidditch really is that important to me."

Harry's frown had deepened with Flint's explanation. He couldn't believe that the older boy had actually answered his question, and with a rather truthful confession at that. Especially when he had seemingly ignored the question earlier, and pursued his own line of questioning. He opened his mouth to bare his own confession when Flint continued.

"So Potter, can you please tell my why it was so badly needed."

Harry shut his mouth with a click, furious. Not only was he back to being called Potter, but Flint had probably also only made this seemingly deep felt confession to lure Harry into trusting him. The words Flint had spoken were truth, his magic had confirmed that, but Flint still could have had a deceitful meaning behind the truth. Vernon often mixed in truth with his lies. Manipulated the words. His favourite was "If you're a good boy I'll feed you," and would either declare that Harry was too freaky to ever be a good boy. Or, he would hand him something that was hardly fit for human consumption, and depending on the last time Harry had been presented food he would take it and try to ignore their jeering, or he would decline it and risk a beating.

"I had to ensure that even if I couldn't trust you, I would at least be somewhat safe, if only because you would risk losing your magic otherwise." Harry stated in the calmest and coldest voice any of them had ever heard, a slight alteration from what he had originally intended to say, and a lot more then what he wanted, but he did not think that Flint would take kindly to absolute silence.

"But Potter, you're a Slytherin." Bole stated as if it were the most obvious and simplest thing in the world.

"And that has worked _so_ well for me before." Came the sarcastic reply. Harry then stormed out of the locker room, not caring if there were students laying in wait for him outside. Anything would be better then remaining in there with them. He didn't notice as all the air turned ice cold, the lockers slammed open heedless of locking charms, or the solitary dark figure that stood in the next row of lockers.

- - -

Come Sunday morning Harry was sitting at his regular desk in the library, immersed in a book on flying acrobatics when someone joined him at the table. When nothing was said after five minutes of silence, and the figure didn't seem to be leaving or reading, Harry peered over the book in curiosity. It was Malfoy. He went back to reading. If there was one thing he knew about Malfoy, it was that he was impatient, and did not enjoy being ignored. As such, he would either start talking momentarily, try to hex Harry despite his shield, or go away frustrated and sulking because Harry's world didn't revolve around Malfoy like it apparently should. Okay, so he knew several things about Malfoy, it was a consequence of not having any friends and sharing a room with the boy. When Malfoy hadn't done any of the above, or even start fidgeting after ten minutes Harry lowered his book impressed. It must have been important, because for all his gusto about Malfoy pride and grace and such, Malfoy was one of the most egocentric, passionate and hyperactive people Harry had ever met. Even in situations where he was supposed to be poised, Harry had noticed him either tapping his feet, repeating some sort of pattern on his fingers or, quietly humming a tune Harry didn't recognize. After another five minutes of Harry just staring at Malfoy who continued to remain quiet and still, Harry finally put his book down intrigued.

"Okay Malfoy, you've got my attention, talk."

"Thank Merlin!" Malfoy nearly shouted, and begin fidgeting like crazy. His fingers were flying across the table, and his knees were bouncing so fiercely Harry was almost afraid they would jerk off.

"Well?" Harry wanted to ask, but remained silent. When a dam like Malfoy broke, it was best to let the water rush forth until it was further down the river, and one could build another blockade.

"I was afraid I wouldn't be able to sit still like that any longer." He confessed, "It was nearly twenty minutes Potter."

Harry shrugged. "I wanted to see how long you would last." Malfoy muttered something about Harry being just like his father before he turned back to Harry. He also had mood-swings like no one Harry had ever met.

"I've decided I want to call a truce."

Harry was flabbergasted. He was also suspicious. For all of Malfoy's hyperactivity and mood-swings, he was also quite the actor. The only people Harry found nearly as confusing were Snape, Flint, the Weasley Twins and McCullough.

"Why?" he ventured when it became clear Malfoy was waiting for a response of some kind. He could tell by the droop in his shoulders that it was not the answer Malfoy wanted, it may have been, and should have been suspected but not the response that he wanted. "Why now?" Malfoy's fidgeting became nervous and agitated.

"Because I have decided that you are worthy of being befriended by a Malfoy." He said with his chin raised in defiance of his movements.

"You're such a bloody martyr." Harry began packing his books.

"What? Wait where are you going? I the heir to the Glorious House of Malfoy tell you that I want to be your friend and you walk away?" It was Malfoy's turned to be flabbergasted.

"First off Malfoy, you called a truce – which I haven't agreed to, not friendship, secondly what does your being a Malfoy have to do with anything? It meant jack-all to me the first two months of school so what difference does it make now?"

"Well, because the first two months of school I wasn't sure I wanted to be your friend."

"If anything you've made it abundantly clear that you detested my presence and preferred me injured or worse when around you, so what's changed?" Harry paused in his packing, hovering slightly over the last book ready to flee at any moment, but still remaining proud and disgusted by Malfoy's presence. Malfoy for his part was also standing, ready to grab Harry in case he ran off, and as far as Harry could tell he looked genuinely earnest, much like Longbottom, although he doubted Malfoy would enjoy such a comparison. That earnest expression, and a genuine curiosity as to why Malfoy was there is what made him pause.

"You have Potter, or at least my perception of you has." Here Malfoy hesitated, looking to Harry for some reassurance that he wasn't going to leave. Harry put the last book in his bag, but perched on the edge of the chair instead of leaving right away. Malfoy sat down and continued to try and explain.

"I didn't know what to expect when I saw you on the train, and later at the sorting feast. You were the hero of everyone's bedtime stories, the end to a reign of darkness and misery. Even those families who hated you for getting rid of the Dark Lord revered you in some way because you had done just that. At the very least you were someone to be watched, even if you were to be a shoe-in for Gryffindor. And then, there you were, this small scrawny waif who looked half-starved and no older then eight, so nervous and so full of hope. You looked as if the fat-friar could bowl you over, and you were not who I thought you were going to be. I was supposed to hate you, and with you going into Gryffindor it would be no problem. Easy even. Then you were sorted in Slytherin, my house, and everything changed. I thought it was a joke, and I was certainly not the only one. Then I didn't know what to expect, and then I was furious because I didn't think you deserved to be in Slytherin."

"And how exactly is this supposed to endear me to you Malfoy? If anything it's proving how stupid you and the rest of Hogwarts is."

"I know that, alright, just let me finish. Ok? It was stupid and it was childish, but I didn't know why you were in Slytherin because for the most part you didn't look like you would fit in, you didn't display many Slytherin traits and you didn't know anybody."

"I grew up in the Muggle world Malfoy, of course I didn't know anybody."

"I know that now, but I didn't then. I couldn't imagine them placing you, the wizarding saviour, in the muggle world. I know families who would have sold their own children just to say they helped raise the Boy-Who-Lived, and here you were an unknown. I've known Teddy, Blaise, Vince, Greg, Pans, Millie all of the first year Slytherins for my whole life. It's the same with most of the upper years. So then I started to watch you."

"You stalked me?"

"I didn't have to, we're in the same everything. I just went about my daily schedule and observed you while I was at it. It shocked me to say the least. I had to reevaluate everything. First off, their prejudice against you is beyond the realm of extreme and ridiculous. Especially considering you are their Golden Boy. What surprised me most though was your unrelenting strength throughout it. You don't get mad you get even. You study, and you preserve. Not to mention you've pulled some of the most quick-witted, and daring Slytherin moves I've ever seen."

"What are you saying exactly?" Harry interrupted suspiciously. He did not care for Malfoy's adoration, and really would just have preferred to remain by himself in the shadows. _Liar_. A voice in his head mocked, but Harry mentally shook it out when Malfoy started to speak.

"I'm saying that from what I've observed, not only are you fit to be in Slytherin, but that you will probably grow up to be one of the best Slytherin has ever seen. I'm saying that from what I've observed you have the potential to go far, and contrary to what I may have believed before-hand, I think that you would make a good friend who would encourage me to always better myself. Not to mention I think that if we became friends, the Malfoy name could help you against some of the idiocy in Hogwarts."

"And I'm saying that if it took you two months to figure that out, then you're probably the most unobservant person ever. Not to mention, those "quick-witted, and daring Slytherin moves" are what I've done to ensure that I don't need people like _you_. If you had wanted to be my friend, you should have done it when I actually needed someone, because I wasn't sure if I would live through the day. I don't care for your petty jealousies, for your hero-worship of me, or for your revelations. So I would appreciate it if you would kindly fuck off, because I've been managing fine on my own thanks."

Harry didn't wait for Malfoy to leave the Library, and instead stormed out himself, furious at Malfoy's proposition. He could read between the lines, at first Malfoy was resentful of his position, then when he found out that Harry was smart and could hold his own he wanted to join in on it. He didn't want true friendship, what he wanted was to parade the Boy-Who-Lived off to his pureblood circles. Harry was rather surprised that he couldn't hear Malfoy yelling on his way out, although screaming in rage was no doubt against the Malfoy code of conduct. At the very least Malfoy would be shocked, if not livid that he had refused the offer of a Malfoy. It was no doubt an attempt to lure Harry in, use him, then stab him in the back. If he was lucky it would be the one and only time Malfoy would make this proposition but if not at least he had fair warning. He didn't understand the folly of people, or their fickle behaviours. First he was to be despised. Then he was to be hailed and despised due to a stupid game on broomsticks, and now apparently he was to be considered a prized asset. It was completely contradictory, and ridiculous. In his rant he didn't noticed the pompous git following him, and therefore was not prepared for the confrontation as he entered into the Great Hall.

He started by grabbing Harry's arm to turn him around as he reached for the doors leading to the Hall. What he didn't expect was for Potter to flinch and try to get away from the contact, violently, as if he expected something more. Potter's presence transformed from one of a quiet determination to petrifaction without seeming provocation, and then immediately reverted back to that confidence when he noticed who had approached him. Draco found it unnerving to say the least, but still he steeled himself for what he was about to do, he had not thought about this decision lightly. It was one of the reasons he had taken so long in approaching Potter, because he was unsure of any possible alliance with him, and wanted to ensure that this decision would not only be a good one, but a lasting one. So with a tilt of his head he stared Potter directly in the eyes, after discreetly making sure that there was a moderate amount of people present in the Hall, before making his declaration with a voice strong enough to be heard by all those watching.

"I, Draconis Amectus Malfoy would like to call a formal truce with one Harry James Potter by way of the ancient rite of Alliance."


	8. Prove Yourself

Chapter 7 – _Prove Yourself_

Sometimes in order to get what you wanted, you need to do exactly the opposite of what would be expected of you, especially by those that you wanted it from. Harry thought that this was just one of those instances. Being Muggle raised most would probably figure that he would sneer at Malfoy, or be ignorant as to the true meaning behind the Alliance Rite. A couple weeks ago, they would have been right. Instead he had come across it in the readings about binding oaths and contracts that he had begun in an effort to achieve some security in Hogwarts. He knew all about Alliance Rites, their three signs of three, done because three is one of the most powerful numbers magically. They held a sign or token every three days over a period of twenty-seven days to create three to the power of three. The first three tokens in silence, the second three in peace, and the third triad once again in silence to create signs of trust, understanding, knowledge, loyalty, truth, sincerity, ability, acceptance and strength. Each token was personal to the one receiving and the one giving, personal to the situation and to their understandings. They were meant as representations of each stage of the rite, gifts of sorts to the receiving party that could be kept even if the final offer was refused, and it could be refused. However the trickiness with this specific ritual was that it could only be refused after it had been completed in full. The final token is always a choice. The receiver, or the Thos, is always given the ability to choose to be aligned with the family, or Kran, in charge of the ritual, or to forever be disassociated from that family. The Kran must always accept that choice no matter what the outcome. If he wanted Malfoy to stay away from him, he needed to go along with Malfoy's plans for now, because once the Thos has said no, the Kran can never again initiate contact in any manner with them. So, in front of the entirety of those who were currently in the Great Hall, Harry took the proffered hand, with both of his own as stated by custom, kissed Malfoy on either cheek, and agreed. He then left the Great Hall to go eat in the kitchens, a little miffed at Malfoy's actions and his own actions, but knowing that nothing else would have been accepted by the magic. Besides, he had no illusions as to what he would say come the end of the ritual. He had to be comforted in that knowledge.

* * *

Severus impatiently kept himself from looking at the clock because he knew that reading the numbers would prove his suspicions that the boy was not going to return. It was the night and time of their bi-weekly potions meetings, and the last he had looked at the clock the boy had been twenty minutes late. Based on the amount of potions ingredients he had since prepared he was willing to bet that the boy was now nearly an hour and a half late, yet he was not brave enough to look at the clock. It sounded ridiculous, but it was true. To be so concerned would mean that not only had he lost the boy's trust and confidence, but that he cared about loosing it. He was sure that the boy was going to come to their meeting, especially after the stint his godson had pulled in front of the Great Hall today. An Alliance Rite of all things. He would not be the one to write to Lucius about his son's doings, but he would not shelter the boy when his father found out about his transgressions. As the heir to the Malfoy name, Lucius was the only one who could take back Draco's offer, however to do so would be the equivalent of disinheriting him and as Draco was the sole heir, it was not a feasible option. Which meant that Draco had either soundly researched this ritual, or had not thought of those consequences. It was 8:45. He had looked, and the boy was nearly two hours late. With a harsh sigh, Severus began to store the ingredients. The boy was no longer obligated to attend these meetings, but a little consideration or notification on his part would have been greatly appreciated. It was not as if he, Severus, was worrying. No. He was simply annoyed that the brat had thought his time was worth so little. Furious, Severus threw a vial of flobberworms at the clock. Keeping sure not to be so heathen as to scream when the glass made contact the vial fell to the ground in pieces. He threw a couple more vials until not a trace of the clock was left on the wall aside from a small dent made by his last throw, and then began to pull himself together and calm down. It would do him no good to confront the boy when angry. Not only was there something wrong with the boy, or at the least with the boy's situation, but he had merely walked out on Severus the last time he had been angry with him.

For the past week and a half, Severus had been going over the conversation he had had with Harry in his head, and occasionally in his Penesive in order to insure that he hadn't missed anything of significance. There had been many things that hadn't meshed well with both his previous understanding of Harry Potter, and of Hogwarts. First off, it was terribly unusual for anyone, even Harry Potter, to receive more then one letter, let alone hundreds. This led him to believe that someone in some sort of position of power desperately wanted Harry to go to Hogwarts. Yes it was generally assumed that the boy would go to his parent's Alma Mater, especially after their deaths and the trust fund in his name, but still, _hundreds_ of letters left unopened? Burned even, if Harry's story was to be believed. Not to mention how the boy had spoken as if he didn't know what a Hogwarts letter was, if he didn't know what _Magic_ was. Would Albus have placed the boy with such relatives? In the beginnings after the war had been completed, he had heard Minerva complaining that they were the worst sorts of Muggles, but to withhold from the boy his heritage, part of his own being? What was worse were the boy's echoing words that haunted him, '_my cupboard under the stairs.' _They were resultant from the bit of accidental legitimacy he had preformed on the boy during their last confrontation. He could therefore no longer ignore the very obvious signs presented before him, not according to his oath as a teacher of children, nor according to his own personal code of honour. Potter flinched at loud noises and shied away from human touch. He was very adept at hiding his emotions and reading people's body language. He had a high cognitive ability, but very little in the way of social skills. He kept to the shadows when he could, hunkered over to make his frame smaller, and was very good at remaining unnoticeable. He had an extremely high pain tolerance, as based on the various 'accidents' he had had to endure at the beginning of the semester, and he wore clothes that were clearly several sizes too large. He was extremely skinny, to the point of starvation, and had had bizarre bruises upon his arrival. At the very least his family was not very well off, and he lived in a rough neighbourhood. However, Severus knew the stipend that the Dursley's were receiving from the Potter Accounts, and it was no less then a small fortune. It was nearly seventeen thousand galleons a year, and in today's market would equal close to eighty-five thousand British pounds. That was enough to keep any family moderately comfortable for the rest of their lives assuming that at least one of the parents had a job to supplement the income. That left the one option that he didn't wish on any child, let alone the Boy-Who-Lived.

After casting a _Repario_ on the clock, a _Scrougio_ on the floor, and putting away the remaining vials, Severus left the lab in order to search for an answer as to what to do. The worst problem wasn't that Harry was being abused; it was that he knew that Dumbledore, hailed Lord of the Light, knew it was happening. So the problem then was trying to figure out why?

* * *

Harry paced the hallways of the Dungeons. He was unsure whether or not his actions were gaining him sympathizers or were alienating him further from his peers. He knew it was not normal for an eleven year-old to co-erce his upperclassmen into binding magical contracts with such high prices, especially over something as trivial as a game. He was lucky he had not underestimated the fanaticism and seriousness surrounding the sport. He was however suspicious because no sort of retaliation or revenge had so far been enacted, and while it was sometimes best to wait out these sorts of things, he had expected many of those on the team to react rashly. The issue and complications of Malfoy's Alliance Rite was not making his situation any better. After initially scorning the idea of actually ending the ritual with an acceptance of the Kran, he had begun to think upon the implications of having such a highly favoured and influential family permanently allied to him. However, not one of these situations was weighing heavily on his mind as he paced the dungeon floors. It was ten minutes before he was generally scheduled to help Professor Snape in his laboratory, and he was unsure of whether or not to continue the lessons. The word 'laboratory' made him uncharacteristically think of the cartoons he had seen on occasion from the slats in his cupboard door. Cartoons where the mad scientist was working maniacally in a secret underground chamber with various plans on world domination, aided by a rather dim-witted and clumsy assistance that inevitably helped the hero of the story succeed in thwarting his master accidently. The question was whether he was the hero of the story as many of the wizarding world would like him to be, or whether he was the assistant. All of this nonsense was completely irrelevant to the rather pressing question of whether or not he attend the lessons with Professor Snape.

He had thought that for once, perhaps, the professor was someone he could have some level of trust with, and for a little while he had. He trusted that the professor found his work acceptable. He trusted that the man was competent in his field, and took his work seriously. He even trusted that while in his presence no other students would taunt, or threaten him, and that the professor had a preference of Slytherins over all other houses, especially Gryffindor. He wanted to trust the professor with more then that. He wanted to believe that he had his, Harry's, best interest at heart, or would at least follow his interests in accordance with his teaching oath and own personal moral code. He found himself thinking about their last private interaction. How quickly the professor had been to anger, and to call him a celebrity. How quickly the professor had placed the blame on Harry. They always placed the blame on Harry. Was he foolish to think that the professor was any diff - _No!_ He wouldn't think of that because it just showed that he trusted too much. Snape was just like every other adult in his life, only smarter. It would be good to remember that he was Head of Slytherin House for a reason. So, with a heavy heart that he couldn't explain, Harry turned away from the scratched maple door and walked back to the library. Whatever it was he had been feeling in regards to Snape it had hurt him, and once again – well, once again it was just Harry. He had to remember that in the end, it was always just Harry.

* * *

Severus stood in front of the Gargoyle glaring. While he did not mind the occasional muggle or magical sweet, he found it distasteful for such a high profile wizard as Dumbledore himself to have such an easily obtained password. In spite of how Dumbledore tried to portray himself, Severus knew that he was not infallible and it would only take was one reasonably powerful person to take out the Great Albus Dumbledore all because he used a stupid sweet name as a barrier. It was moderately ingenious as most wizards would be surprised to hear that muggles knew what sweets were let alone that they produced their own, and would have remained an effective failsafe had it not been employed since Severus himself was a student. Reluctantly he conceded, and spit out the words "Swedish Berries," then stepped onto the staircases and proceeded to make his way to the headmaster's office. After his meeting with Poppy, it would be interesting to see the headmaster's perspective. He had to be careful though, if his suspicions of the headmaster's actions were correct. Shaking his head slightly, he began to occulude; he didn't want to play his hand too quickly, or without knowing where all the players were. Oddly enough, he felt as if he were playing a twisted version of the game Risk while the rest of the world played Chess.

"Good Evening Severus, do come in, we were just talking about you."

* * *

There was someone sitting in his corner of the library. Well technically, two 'someones'. What was more peculiar was that they had sat down after him, and were wearing the distinctive red and gold of Gryffindor house. He moved his papers and books towards him, not as a courtesy, but to ensure that they were within his line of sight so that they couldn't be tampered with. Just because they were the house of the 'brave' didn't mean that they couldn't be sneaky, and it was much harder to track hexes placed on objects then hexes placed on people.

"Sorry, everywhere else is full, and you're usually not here at this time." Came a voice to his left. He was fairly sure her name was Granger, and he would have to make a mental note to vary his schedule. Ambushes are more easily planned out when one has a routine, and while he couldn't do anything about his classes, he could mix up his schedule after class. Apparently she wanted some sort of reassurance about their presence, because she asked almost angrily "is it okay?" He shrugged his shoulders. As long as they didn't touch his stuff, or try and curse him he didn't care who was there and told them as such. She seemed a little perturbed by his response, almost as if she were insulted the he implied she would try and hurt him, and gustily made way for the assignment that she and the boy were working on. It was the reversal potion they had done in class that day. Apparently they were trying to discover where they went wrong, because despite her genius, he and Malfoy were the only two who had completed it properly. And if he wasn't mistaken, this boy, Longbottom, had actually managed to melt his cauldron with it. He shook his head softly; there weren't even any corrosive materials within the potion. The boy was a bloody marvel. The chit noticed the shaking of his head and grew annoyed. He didn't know how he got himself into these situations.

"Think you know better then?" she asked, peeved that he had insulted her intelligence. He quietly looked at her directly from above his book on Magical Defense.

"I don't know where _he_ went wrong," he stated nodding his head towards Longbottom "because none of the ingredients that are supposed to be used in the Reversal Potion when mixed in any combination are corrosive." The boy had the grace to blush. "But, I yes I have a fairly good idea of where you went wrong." He stated as simply and as calmly as he could. She was clearly proud of her intellect, and he didn't want to incur her wrath, or worse be removed from the library.

"Well, are you going to tell me where? Although I highly doubt you were able to create your potion and observe how I mixed my own. Especially considering you were across the room at the time." Again Harry shrugged his shoulders, it didn't matter to him what they thought of him, he was just trying to get them away from him faster.

"Did you read the instructions on the board?"

"Of course I did! Several times in fact, and it still came out wrong." Harry shook his head Gryffindors needed patience.

"You misunderstand me. Did you read the instructions in the book too?"

"Professor Snape wrote the instructions on the board, and I was in the front row. All it said was see footnote, and there were none written on the board. I just assumed that it was from a previous instruction."

"Well, that's where you went wrong then. You didn't add in the last half of the ingredients with your non-dominant hand. It was in the footnotes."

"There were no footnotes."

"Not on the board there weren't. That's why the Professor told us the page number. The footnote he was referring to came from the textbooks."

"But that doesn't make sense. Why would he do such a thing? And what does it matter whether or not you use your dominant hand or not?"

"It's a _reversal_ potion Granger, think about it. And he does it because every detail in Potions matters, especially the higher up you get. That's why he so stringent on who he lets into his NEWTs classes. Most of the materials used in the lower levels are harmless, but a mistake like that in the more dangerous potions could mean your life Mudblood." Longbottom gasped at the voice from behind him, and Harry scowled at Malfoy's presence. It seemed that he was going to have to find a new place to study. What Malfoy didn't say, thought Harry, was that that was also the reason that Professor Snape was so harsh on Longbottom. It shouldn't be possible for anyone to melt or explode their cauldrons with the materials that they were using, but he managed to do it at least twice a week since the beginning of term. Unsurprisingly it was Granger who disturbed his thoughts

"What do you want Malfoy?" For his part, Malfoy ignored her and focused his attentions on Longbottom.

"Did the Countess make certain that you were brought up with the old rites and customs?" A shaky nod, and a stuttered "y-y-yes" were his reply.

"Enough that you can act as a witness, or is your knowledge and power so lacking that I need to employ another to do what will be asked of you?"

"Malfoy leave Neville alone or I'll curse you myself. Whatever you need a witness for I'm sure a professor will be more then willing to oversee it." Malfoy sneered, but before he could open his mouth Neville had already spoken up. For Harry, these events were proving quite interesting.

"N-n-no Hermione, it's okay. Malfoy is within his rights to ask if I can perform the duties of a witness and you cannot force him to take anyone as a witness, not everyone has been trained in the old rites. Not to mention he's not doing anything sneaky. He's asking for someone to partake as a witness to the Alliance Rite when he presents Potter with his first gift. " He held up his hand to forestall any further questions from Hermione, as well as any snide remarks from Malfoy. "And no Hermione, not just anyone can do it. It's actually a big honour and a large responsibility to be asked, thank you Malfoy. I promise I'll explain it all later, but for now can you leave us be. No one but the witness is to watch the first presentation."

Furious at being denied such knowledge and being dismissed so easily, and a little hurt that her friend had not taken her side, or appreciated her support, Hermione packed her bags and left the secluded portion of the library. Harry felt a little saddened at the fact that he and she, and countless others had been denied knowledge that had obviously been part of the upbringing of those like Malfoy and Longbottom. In his musings about Muggleborns and Purebloods, he had missed the charms and spells Longbottom had placed around their table, watching just in time for Longbottom to place a _Silencio_ around his ears. Just because the witness was to be present for the exchange, didn't mean they were to be privy to everything that transpired during the exchange. His purpose was to ensure that both parties were content with the proceedings, and to ensure that no one interrupted the proceedings so that it could be recognized by the old magicks. If this did not happen, there was a good chance the Ritual would either need to be repeated, or there would be some unknown outcome decided by the magicks. Sometimes both parties were accepting of said outcome, but it was not usually the case. Old magicks were finicky, and if they were not done properly could be quite warped in their results. As Neville had mentioned, it was a large honour and responsibility to be chosen at witness. If a presentation was interrupted and the witness could have prevented it, they were quite often killed by the ritual magicks. At Neville's nod, Draco turned to Harry grasped his hands and stood from the table. Harry was slightly unsure of what the expect, he knew what he had to say come the end of the ritual, but other then that the books could not reveal what was to transpire during the ritual, as each Thos and Kran were different.

"As your Kran, and in my trust, I Draconis Amectus Malfoy give you, my Thos, Harry James Potter, the gift of my voice. I trust you, my Thos, to be my voice to the outside world, and to be the only one to hear my voice. As a further sign of how I, your Kran, can be of use to you, my Thos, I gift to you three books. The first is one of British wizarding customs, laws and tradition, I will teach you all that I can to ensure that from henceforth you get the proper education befitting your station. The second is one of other wizarding populations to ensure that if ever Britain betrays you, you may remain safe outside her walls. The third is on the Potter legacy. I think that one speaks for itself. Do you, my Thos, accept the gifts I present towards you so that you know of the trust I place in you, and what use I have if this Alliance continues beyond this rite?" Malfoy gave a slight bow as he held up the books for Harry to accept. Cautiously Harry picked up the scroll from atop the books.

_In trust I place my voice in possession of _

_Harry James Potter until the ninth day. _

–_Draco Amectus Malfoy_

"I have seen your use, and I have seen your trust, and as your Thos I will accept them as I must." Harry said, taking great care in placing the new books into his book bag. He very much wanted to pour through them, but he restrained himself. Just because he was considering the pros and cons of retaining a formal Alliance with the Malfoy family, did not mean that he would betray such emotions to them pursuing the books immediately would relay. Instead he nodded his head, took the books, and said his line. Before he could nod to Neville to remove the Alliance charms, Malfoy took him by the hands again, and whispered in his ear.

"If you are to be the only one to hear my voice, might I suggest that you call me Draco, and I call you Harry?" When Harry didn't respond for or against this question, Draco continued "Harry, I want you to know that I will stand by this rite even if you refuse me in the end. I may have been slow and foolhardy in my decisions before, but I will strive to make up for my shortcomings. I am after-all only eleven."

Harry snorted. "Eleven or no, you are no child."

"So long as I don't let the Black temper that I inherited get in my way. But honestly Harry, I want you to read those books and I will help you with anything in them to the best of my ability. If there's one thing I know, it's the wizarding ways. My family thrives on their customs and traditions."

Harry motioned for Neville to end the charms before grabbing his stuff and heading out of the library.

"We'll see Draco, we'll see."


	9. House of Cards

Chapter 8 – _House of Cards_

Pain. Lots of pain. It was the only thing that he knew at the moment. Groggily he thought about how pain was a good thing, pain meant you were alive. He wanted to hit whoever said that, and inflict some pain of his own. Clearly they had not experienced this pain. With a quiet groan he tried to move before succumbing to the darkness. It was the kind of darkness that knew no pain.

He woke again several times during the night, always to that same pain before seeking solitude in the darkness. He woke again the next evening to a scrambled muttering of voices around him. It was to his great relief that he realized he was without pain. The words "pain relieving potion" came to mind, but he didn't care if it had meant he needed to drink jellyfish goo, so long as he wasn't in pain. Whatever had relieved the pain however, had left him with a detached fuzziness, so it was with a concentrated effort that he tried to listen in to what was going on around him.

"This is the last straw Albus, they're going to _kill _him. You should never have let the boy become a Slytherin."

"Oh yes, ignore the fact that it is the blatant bigotry displayed by your precious lions, and your lack of control over them that has resulted in his current injuries _Minnie._"

"Well if your snakes weren't so hostile and sneaky –"

"They're stereotyped and distrusted on sight. You try living without showing any sort of hostile behaviour when three quarters of the student population and the majority of the staff hates you because of the decisions of a eight hundred year old hat! They are eleven and you treat them as if they are the Dark Lord himself."

"Now Severus, my boy, be reasonable –"

"Don't you _my boy_ me you miserable old coot. –"

"Quiet all of you. I will not have your incessant bickering disturb my patients – "

He didn't fight the pull of his body and fell back into the darkness of sleep before anyone of those arguing could notice that he had been awake. Even if it had only been for a moment or two.

* * *

_-Four Months Earlier-_

The Alliance Ritual with Malfoy had been going better then Harry would have thought possible. Especially considering that exam season had fallen upon them halfway through the ritual. Draco had shown his usefulness and his ability to trust Harry in the first task by the presentation of his knowledge of wizarding customs and etiquette, and by giving over the power of his voice. He had shown his understanding of Harry's values and goals with a hand crafted, if rudimentary, wand holder, day planner and bookmark that he himself had made. He then produced the receipt to an entire wardrobe that was to be tailored to Harry's exact measurements, and made of the highest quality fabrics and designs like those befitting only a Malfoy. He had garnered special permission to have the French Tailor and the Dutch shoemaker brought into the castle on several occasions to ensure his exact measurements. Then in the third presentation, he had shown that while he was still loyal and trustful of Harry, by prostrating himself in front of Harry (in a secluded room) with the declaration that Harry could do anything to his person without any form of repercussion, but he had shown that it was not an unwavering or blinded loyalty as he then regained the use of his voice. Malfoys however do nothing by halves, and the use of his voice and loyalty came with the condition that it would be used to ensure that Harry led informed decisions about his life, and he could therefore question Harry's leadership, judgment and motives if it meant ensuring that they stayed safe and did not disrupt the morals or values that had been mutual decided upon. The next rites showed his public support and power, followed by a blood oath from Draco to Harry, and a lock of his hair to show his sincerity in the Rite and its traditions. They were now eighteen days into the ritual, and Harry was preparing himself for the next rite. It was by far the one Harry was the most anxious about, The Rite of Familial Acceptance.

Over the past while Harry and Draco had become close, close enough that Harry was beginning to see Draco as more then just a means to an ends to ensure his safety both physically and politically in this new world. In a normal relationship between eleven year olds, they would be considered good if not best friends. Harry however had not experienced a normal relationship of any kind, and was therefore highly inexperienced and unable to explain what kind of relationship he had with Draco and why he felt such a complex mix of emotions regarding the next stage of the ritual. Emotionally he was still leery about everything Draco had done. Yet intellectually he could appreciate the effort, and accept what each token meant, literally and figuratively. In spite of this intellectual understanding he was still nervous about the Familial Rite of Acceptance. Draco had to prove that his family, both blood and otherwise were accepting of his choice of Harry as his Thos, and would be in support of the alliance that would be created at the end of the ritual. This was probably one of the most active roles that Harry had to play in this ritual, and he found the task daunting for several reasons. First, he was seriously considering the prospect of accepting Draco at the end of this Alliance ritual, and as such he did not want to make a poor impression upon Draco's family and friends. Second, he was terrified about the next twelve days. It was December 18th, which meant that winter break was upon them. Normally that wouldn't be an issue, he would spend the three days of the Familial Rite with Draco's family, and be done with it. Being "done with it" in this instance meaning for him to return home until the next token day, but with his family being Muggles he couldn't go home, and had instead to spend the other nine days at Malfoy Manor with Professor Snape as his chaperone. If spending three days with people you didn't know wasn't bad enough, he now had to spend twelve days with these people solely protected by unfamiliar ancient alliance magicks, and a Professor who he had yet to speak to outside of class. He was therefore uncertain of how far they would go in keeping him safe.

Most importantly however, Harry was unsure of what Malfoy was gaining out of this alliance, and was unsure of how it could be used against him in the future. He had no money. He didn't have a proper family. He hadn't even been aware of his wizarding heritage until a few months previously, and before then had been very much a freak of nature. He was still unsure about his status as a freak, as unnatural things, even by wizarding standards, still seemed to happen to him. He also seemed to be hated by most of Hogwarts due to his status as a Slytherin. It honestly baffled him as to why Draco has begun this ritual with him. What did he have to offer Draco, let alone the rest of the Malfoys? Harry looked at the clock with an anxious twitch, there were only a few hours time left before they were scheduled to leave Hogwarts. Was this the right decision? Would the Malfoy's see what he really was? Would the scorn him for it? Would they be just like the Dursleys? Was this some elaborate trap on their part to kill him? He would have been stupid not to hear the rumours that circulated, about the active Death Eaters that got away. He quickly shut his trunk and ran frantically from the dormitory, he couldn't deal with this right now.

In his panic he ran into a startled body, one that was, like most others, bigger then himself. In spite of the difference, both bodies fell to the marble floor.

"Harry?" Harry looked up from the ground to see Neville with his book bag and various papers strewn around him. "Are you okay Harry? I'm sorry I didn't see you. I'm so clumsy, I was reading my potions essay." Neville quickly tried to help Harry up. Harry flinched away from the hand, and scrambled to pick up the mess he had caused. _Clumsy fool. A fucking freak. Always making messes. Always my fault. _

"Harry? What's wrong, what are you muttering? Are you okay?" This time he couldn't flinch out of the way as Neville's concerned hand came in contact with his shoulder. "Harry don't worry about it. It was my fault. And don't you have to get ready for the Malfoys? Isn't Professor Snape accompanying you?" Harry ignored Neville and began shaking his head as he continued to clean up the mess. While many of the Gryffindors, and Slytherins for that matter, taunted about how Neville wasn't worth his weight in magic, and about he was the poster-boy for squibs what they couldn't deny was his intelligence regarding plants and people. Being quiet, patient and observant had their advantages. Neville had a calm and gentle manner that was often overlooked and underappreciated by his peers. It was all of these qualities and his own personal struggles that allowed Neville to realize if not on a fully conscious level that something was deeply wrong with Harry. Harry normally avoided people, trying to avoid being seen or heard. He often flinched at loud noises in class, and human contact in the halls. Neville himself often did many of the same things, especially after years of just he and his grandmother dicking around in the tranquility of the Longbottom gardens. But this, this erratic behaviour was more then that. It was a full-blown panic attack; on occasion he had seen his parents suffer through them on some of their bad days. At least until the healers pushed him out of the room that is. Right now however, there were no healers, and this wasn't his parents. This was Harry. Harry who, since the day of the first ritual had become his quasi-friend. So very slowly and calmly, Neville sat down on the far wall and began to talk to his friend trying to work out his mutterings, and ease the anxiety. In some ways, he thought, it was very much like coaxing a particularly stubborn plant to grow.

_Why do they want the freak? They'll probably just hurt me. They always hurt me. Always my fault. Always my fault._

_

* * *

_

It had been twenty minutes since Neville had begun trying to talk Harry out of his panic attack the best he could, when Flint ran across them. Well, ran wasn't exactly the word that Neville would use to describe how Flint came across them, it was more of an appearance out of the shadows much like the rumoured preferred transportation of vampires. By this point Harry had stopped organizing the papers and muttering to himself, instead he had curled up into a ball with his back against the wall and was warily watching the movement around him. When Neville looked at Harry's eyes, he knew that Harry wasn't really there. Flint came to squat beside the sitting Neville, taking a surprising care to whisper his queries to Neville so as to not disturb Harry. It was much more then Nevilled thought any Slytherin was capable, tact and compassion.

"What happened to him?" Neville chose to ignore the accusation in the voice.

"A panic attack of some sort. I accidently ran into him and he began fluttering around spastically trying to clean up my papers while muttering to himself about how 'they'll probably just hurt me'."

"Why not go to a Professor – ?"

"Longbottom. Neville Longbottom" he supplied " 'Cause I didn't want to leave him alone. He's treated rather poorly the best of times, I didn't want anyone to run into him while he was vulnerable like this."

"And all that talk about plant care?" Neville shrugged.

"It was the most soothing thing I could think of to talk about, and one I have the most extensive knowledge of. I figured having a calm steady voice couldn't hurt." Neville paused to really look at Flint. "Why do you care? Is it just because he's your seeker? The Boy-Who-Lived? Or is it because he's Harry?"

"Why what'll you do to me if I answer incorrectly?" Flint sneered.

"I know enough about, and have easy access to hundreds of herbs and fungi that can be added to your meals to ensure that you'll suffer severe and unpleasant consequences for as long as I want if I find that you're hurting him."

Flint looked at the first year Gryffindor beside him for the first time. That was quite a daring threat to come from a firstie Gryff, and from what he knew about the Longbottom estates it was one the boy could actually carry out.

"So that's why the Hat put you in Gryffindor. We were wondering."

Neville blushed at the comment, but stood his ground. "Well? Why do you care?"

"Because I do. I don't have to justify myself to you, so just be happy with that, 'cause there are enough here who do even have that much." Neville looked at Harry, then back at Flint again before taking a deep breath.

"He's leaving to stay with the Malfoys in a few hours."

"The Alliance Rite?"

"Familial Acceptance." Again Neville paused, he was unsure how to continue.

"So? He afraid that the Malfoys will chop him into itty bitty pieces then give to P'fessor Snape to experiment with?" Flint joked

"Not necessarily that specific, but something like it. Yeah I do. It's a family that he's never met before. And, well, I suspect his own family is –" Neville glanced around briefly before whispering "_shite. _So why wouldn't he be wary of an unknown entity?"

"Most families are shite Longbottom. It's like a synonym for families." Neville shrugged.

"I guess. But I suspect his are worse then others."

"If you think it's that bad, why not tell a Professor?"

"Have you seen the treatment he receives here, what would they care if he received it at home too?"

"Take any weird potions from the 'Claws lately? Last I heard you were a walking potions disaster, how'd you get so insightful?"

"I may not be good at potions, I'm not s-stupid."

"Never said you were. How's about this, you suggest to him to come talk to me for reassurances 'bout the Malfoys."

"And what'll make him believe you over anyone else?" Flint shrugged.

"Nothin' 'cept he has those favours. Tell him to use one of 'em and include a complete honestly policy or something. Anything that will ensure to him that I'm telling the truth."

"I don't get Slytherin logic. Help him out by getting him to call in a favour that he wrung out of you so that you owe him one less favour when you probably would have helped him out anyways."

Flint chucked quietly as he stood up. "Sounds like you understand it just fine. You could get a Professor to help him though, either way I'm going to the Great Hall for brunch."

Knowing that going to a Professor would break whatever little trust Harry had in Neville, he slowly moved until he was sitting across from Harry, taking care to continue his calm litany of plant behaviours, care and characteristics. It would probably help if Harry could see and hear him with no sudden movements or sounds to help draw him out of whatever memory he was in.

* * *

_No one could love a freak. _


	10. Go To Sleep Little Man Being Erased

Chapter 9 – _Go To Sleep (Little Man Being Erased)_

"Enunciation is key here Harry do you understand me?" Absently he wondered when the professor had decided it was proper to call him by his given name again. He was quietly waiting in Professor Snape's quarters as his Head of House explained the properties and use of Floo Powder. Harry however was too busy trying to calm his nerves to effectively listen to the man. He still wasn't sure of this, and if it hadn't been for his conversation with Flint a couple hours earlier, he wouldn't be going at all. Not that he fully trusted Flint - or any one person for that matter - but he had to trust in the favours owed to him under the oath. He had to trust in the magic, and that he had made full honesty part of the terms.

"Draco will go first, then you, and then I shall follow with your trunks. Whatever you do child, do _not_ mumble. Speak clearly. A wrong pronunciation could result in you being sent Merlin knows where, and us unable to find you."

Harry nodded slightly when the Professor paused and looked at him. Sometimes he thought it would be nice if he could just disappear. To just go where he wasn't recognized. Where he wasn't a freak, or the Boy-Who-Lived. He didn't even need to be _just_ Harry, he just needed to be safe. It would be preferable if he was alone, but ultimately he just wanted to be safe.

* * *

"I want your oath Flint." Whispered Harry fiercely, his eyes darting around the room frantically. Calmly Flint looked towards the kid making sure not to make eye contact with him as he finished the privacy wards with a sheathed wand. It was harder then the professor made it look.

"Does this count as one of my favours?"

"If you want it to, then yes." Marcus shrugged one shoulder as he slowly drew his wand. 'At least the kid stopped looking around the room.' He thought sardonically, 'I was afraid his eyes were going to spin right out of his head.' Indeed Harry was almost completely fixated with Flint's wand, at least when he wasn't focused on his body preparing for the larger boy to attack.

"Alright. Upon completing this oath of truth I Marcus Flint will owe Harry Potter one less undetermined favour as previously agreed upon. Do you Harry Potter consent to this?"

"I do." Harry said nervously.

"Then so mote it be. I Marcus Flint solemnly swear upon my magic and my blood that I will be completely truthful and sincere to Harry Potter in the preceding conversation." Harry flinched as a white stream of magic flew out of Flint's wand and swirled around his body ending at his lips. When the magic settled Harry quickly sprung his first question upon the older boy. Flint looked at him and smirked, but didn't say anything.

"What the fuck Flint? You swore you'd be truthful and sincere yet you're not answering a single bloody question!" Flint chided the boy's language before answering, a full grin on his face.

"As repayment of one of my favours I said I would swear the truth oath. I never said I would actually answer any of the questions. That will cost another favour Potter." Flint was both satisfied and a little frightened at the visible manifestation of Potter's anger through the magic that swirled around the younger boy. That amount of raw magic was impressive he had to admit, but the boy had to learn a lesson.

"Fine." The boy finally sighed and the magic immediately dropped its aggressive stance and seemed to cloak the child. . Flint could feel the desperation pouring off the boy, and as much compassion as he felt he was still a Slytherin. "Fine. By actually answering the questions that I will propose, I Harry Potter will concede that a second favour has been paid in full by one Marcus Flint."

"Much obliged, now what did you want to know?"

"I want to know how safe I'll be with the Malfoys. I want to –"

* * *

"Harry? Harry are you listening boy?" slowly Harry looked towards his professor.

"Sorry sir. It's been a long day." Snape peered at the boy through worried eyes, before nodding his acquisition and motioning towards the fireplace. Apparently Draco had already gone through.

"Once you arrive in Malfoy Manor, we will have dinner and then you may depart for your rooms. Will that be satisfactory?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir." Even if he wasn't okay with it he was unsure whether or not anything would actually change from that arrangement. It was best to agree and make his hosts happy, then to disagree and risk their anger. Cautiously Harry took the proffered Floo powder and threw it into the fire. Taking a deep breath he stepped into the flames, and only releasing it when he realized that there was no pain and shouted "Malfoy Manor Foyer" before tightly closing his eyes when soot flew into them. He vaguely remembered Professor Snape saying that he should keep his eyes open so as to not miss his exit, but really how was he supposed to know which exit was which? At these speeds they all looked the same. His violent somersaults abruptly stopped as he was thrown out of, well, a fireplace. He did one last turn mid-air before slamming into something both squishy and rigid, and landing hard on his rear.

"Well, that's certainly one way to make an entrance Mister Potter" came a sardonic voice from the boots that were just in front of his nose. They were a dark grey leather that looked both soft and sturdy and seemed to be engraved with various runes. Harry quickly tried to right himself, but instead found himself tangled in, and stepping on limbs that were not his own.

"Oww Harry. For someone so small you pack quite a punch, although it could just be the bruises from those elbows of yours they're sharp as all Hades Potter."

"Sorry" Harry mumbled, taking care to right both himself and Draco. Both took notice when Snape stepped out of the fireplace as if he were taking a leisurely stroll. He was all grace and black robes, and Harry was infinitely jealous of his abilities.

"It's to be expected upon one's first time traveling by Floo Mr. Potter." Said that voice again. "Now where are your manners child?"

Harry shrunk into himself, but Draco bowed quickly and blushed a bright red. He cleared his throat and introduced Harry to his father.

"A pleasure to meet you Master Potter." the man, Lord Lucius Malfoy, said. Harry was a little startled. Being called Potter was one thing, but _Master_ Potter? He was no one's master. Almost immediately he had noticed his error, the silence had stretched too long. He bowed like Snape had taught him, and shook the proffered hand. Etiquette had to be kept.

"You as well Lord Malfoy. I am sorry if I appeared rude, I was just admiring your décor."

"Ah yes, you have been living with Muggles have you not? It is unsurprising that you would be enthralled by your first Magical home." Harry was unsure if he was expected to respond or not, nor was he sure what to make of Lord Malfoy's tone of voice when talking about his relatives. Before he could think on it too long a voice called to them from the doorway. It was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard, and certainly the most beautiful voice.

"I do apologize Severus dear, and Young Master Potter for my late arrival but the elves detained me momentarily. I hope that my son and husband have not been lacking in their duties, and that they have warmly welcomed you into our home upon my absence."

"Harry, this is my mother, Lady Narcissa Malfoy." Lady Malfoy was gorgeous. He didn't know if anything he said would do justice to her beauty. She reminded him of all those fairy tales Aunt Petunia used to tell Dudley before he grew too old to hear such girly tales. Lady Malfoy was the ultimate princess. She had long blonde hair which seemed to glimmer and shine even within the dim lighting of the entrance hall, done up in an elaborate mixture of curls and braids, and entwined with bells and feathers and rows of crystals, and she had eyes the colour of liquid silver. Harry couldn't help but notice that she was everything his Aunt wanted to, but would never be. She was even more graceful then Professor Snape, not to mention that the gown she wore probably cost more then Uncle Vernon's car. She greeted him with a dazzling smile, curtsied politely and gave Harry his first ever hug. He gasped a little when her arms wrapped around him before he could even properly rise from his bow, and was sure that he managed to stifle the flinch that accompanied the unexpected action. He coughed nervously in embarrassment, and resisted the urge to rub his arms or scratch at his neck due to the strange sensations. He was more then grateful when Professor Snape interrupted to present the Malfoys with a gift on his behalf.

"-and with this gift offered in good grace, we ask for your hospitality upon our stay in your home."

* * *

So far everything had been working well enough. He had been fed, watered and shown to one of the largest rooms he had ever seen, and considering he had been given a rather extensive tour of the interior of the estate that was saying a lot. However at this point in his exhaustion, the room could have been covered in potions ingredients and he would have been okay with it providing that he could still get to sleep. Dinner had been a lovely, but long ordeal. Lord Malfoy and Professor Snape kept to themselves mostly with a heated whispered conversation, while Draco and Lady Malfoy pestered him with what he was sure was every possible question under the sun ranging from what was his preferred material for use in his socks, to what was his favourite colour. Shortly after dessert had been served - some massive sugary confection that sent his stomach into spasms just thinking of ingesting it – the adults had noticed his stifled yawns and sent "the children" off to bed. Draco looked petulant at being left out of the adult conversations, but Harry was just glad that he could finally sleep. So, without much delay he collapsed onto the bed that he had been provided with, and fell into a rather deep sleep that for once had not been peppered with nightmares and other horrors. Due to his exhaustion he did not notice when Professor Snape came into the room to pull the covers over his shivering form, nor did he notice when Lady "call me Aunt Cissy" Malfoy kissed him on the head while patting down his unruly hair.

"He's such a sweet child isn't he Severus?"

"Hmm."

"I understand why my Dragon is as enthralled with him as he is, and is lucky that Harry has the time for him with all those who must be vying for his attention. It's no wonder Draco thought he needed to invoke the Alliance Rite to keep ahead of the competition. He's powerful, I could feel it the moment he crossed our threshold." She stroked the boy's head a moment longer before reluctantly, but gracefully, rising from the bed leaving Severus to escort her out of the rooms, and into the study where Lucius was waiting with a pitcher of Goblin Meade.

"Actually Narcissa, that is one of the things that I need to talk with you and Lucius about. They are not "vying for his attention" as you put it, quite the opposite in fact, as I am sure many of them are actively trying to kill him for daring to be sorted into Slytherin House." Narcissa stopped and turned towards Severus with a cold rigidity that reminded him of a predator bracing to strike at it's prey.

"And what does Dumbledore make of this?"

"He doesn't. If anything I would say he is quietly encouraging it."

Narcisssa looked at him shrewdly, as if he were the one that was harming the boy instead of protecting him to the best of his abilities. Extravagance and beauty aside Narcissa was one of the most fearsome opponents Severus had ever had the misfortune of coming across in any sort of metaphorical or physical battlefield. Lucius had chosen well when he asked for her hand in marriage, providing of course that he did nothing to invoke her ire. Severus would even dare to suggest that when pushed Narcissa could do even more damage then the entire Lestrange family combined, and without leaving a shred of evidence except for the victim's all encompassing fear of tinkling bells and crystal lights. Finally her gaze left his face as she proffered her arm for him to take. In spite of his skills in Occulmency, and his knowledge that there was none who could penetrate his barriers it took ever ounce of his being not to shiver at the sensation that Lady Malfoy evoked when she stared at him like that. It was as if she could see into his soul, and for all he knew of the Black family it was quite possible that she could. Nevertheless it was a position that he strived to avoid being in.

"You have much to make up for Severus." Penitence was not a new experience for him and he told her as such. She looked at him with sad but unrelenting eyes.

"Those were not your fault however much you may disagree with me, and if there was ever an occasion one for one to believe that they were your actions since then have more then made up for any perceived guilt Severus. But this you will not have to suffer through alone. Whether my husband has come to the conclusion or I will have to help him arrive to it, the Malfoy and Black families will stand with you and young Master Potter until death."

Much of the tension Severus had been unknowingly holding released itself upon hearing her words. If he were the kind to do so he would have let out a visible sigh of relief. Instead he patted the Malfoy Matriarch's arm twice while they continued the long trek through the Manor's many twisted corridors talking of the mindless non-consequential things socialites were prone to do while furiously thinking of battle plans. Dumbledore didn't know it yet but in his refusal to support the Boy-Who-Lived he had sparked another war. Only this war would be the kind that would race through shadows and whispered conversations, one that would dance in the moonlight and kill with an unfailing politeness towards its victims. It was a war that was fought through tea parties and social slurs – one where the silence of the action mattered more then the act itself. It was time for the Dark families to unite and show that the dark meant so much more then megalomaniacs who feel no pain. The balance of magic had been disproportioned for far too long with the Light purebloods in power, it was time for the Dark to take control lest it become obsolete. Narcissa was giddy with the excitement of it all.


End file.
